Edelweiss
by Shahrazad63
Summary: My version of the events between the rowboat incident and the Edelweiss scene.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This 11 chapter story was published in my fan fiction forum, and now that I am done with it, I thought it was a good idea to publish it here as well. I changed the title, because after I finished writing it, I thought that, it would be much more appropriate. You´ll understand that in the final chapters._

_Although I am still working without a beta, I had a lot of help from my friends there - lovethisstuff, silverwhitewinters, justapisces, bunny, Maria´s Georg, emmaliesl, adda, and everyone else who offered their comments and ideas. To all of you: I thank you all for your invaluable help and inspiration. As I said, still no beta, so please be kind if you come across some funny grammar or spelling. English is NOT my first language, and I try to do my best here._

_Disclaimer: I do not own "The Sound of Music" or "Die Trapp Familie", or any of the other fiction or non fiction works mentioned here_

_Have fun!_

**Edelweiss**

**Prologue and Chapter I**

**---**

_**For everything there is a season,  
And a time for every matter under heaven:  
A time to be born, and a time to die;  
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;  
A time to kill, and a time to heal;  
A time to break down, and a time to build up;  
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;  
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;  
A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;  
A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;  
A time to seek, and a time to lose;  
A time to keep, and a time to throw away;  
A time to tear, and a time to sew;  
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;  
A time to love, and a time to hate,  
A time for war, and a time for peace.**_

_**Ecclesiastes 3:1-8**_

**---**

_**As was the custom, Georg's graduating class sailed around the world in a schooner. They got as far as Australia and then went up the coast of China, taking measurements (for their maps, no doubt). They did not continue across the Paci**__**ﬁ**__**c but went home the way they had come. They stopped in Egypt, where a fortuneteller grabbed Georg's hand and predicted, "You will have two wives, you will have ten children, you will see two world wars, and you will live to be one hundred years old." He was shocked at these improbable predictions, especially since he had not sought her advice in the **__**ﬁ**__**rst place. Ironically, all but the last one came true, though when given, each seemed more unlikely than the next.**_

_**Elizabeth M. Campbell, Introduction to Georg von Trapp´s To the Last Salute – Memories of an Austrian U boat Commander.**_

_**---**_

**_The most powerful symptom of love is a tenderness which becomes at times almost insupportable._**

_**  
**_**_Victor Hugo _**

---

**Prologue**

Georg von Trapp lingered in his study, as he normally did after everybody had retired and the house was silent. He intended to stay there until he was overcome with lethargy - it was usually the only chance he had to get some decent sleep during the night, without waking up in a cold sweat, after having dreamed he was next to his beloved wife in that cursed hospital bed, holding her while she let out her last breath.

That evening, as it was not infrequent, his body was tired, but his mind was fully awake. Every little noise he head coming from every corner of the house was enough to put him in a state of alert. A clock tickling, a door carelessly left ajar, running footsteps…

_Footsteps?_

The unexpected noise was enough to bring him into a full alert state – a natural response after years of strict military training.

"Who the hell is up and about at this hour," he grumbled, as he started to follow the sound, making his way towards the source of the noise – the kitchen -, with the intent to scold whoever had disturbed his peace. His anger gave way to reason when he was half way there. Maybe a nightcap would help, he thought. Maybe the mysterious kitchen raider would prove not to be such bad company after all…

He wondered who his fellow insomniac could be. Max, maybe? Hardly likely. The impresario had the irritating habit of sleeping like the dead under any circumstances. In al likelihood, it was not Elsa either, since the Baroness would probably ask her own maid to fetch something for her if she needed something. The children would go to Fräulein Maria, who…

He stopped cold when he saw her there, sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of what looked like steaming hot tea in front of her. She wore that same bizarre nightgown he had the night she arrived, this time with a robe of an equally unspeakable color over it.

For the first time since he had first met her, the little Fräulein did not look well. She looked tired and overwrought. Her nose was red, as if she had repeatedly sneezed. The sight tugged at his heart, and he felt for the first time this absurd need to comfort and protect her.

"Hah!"

"Captain!" she exclaimed, clutching one hand to her heart. Clearly, he had spooked her.

"I was wondering who the other insomniac in the house was. Now I know. I must say that I am _not_ surprised," he said abruptly, resorting to cynicism to drive away such inappropriate thoughts. "Planning a mutiny, Fräulein?" She made a motion to get up, but he stopped her with a gesture. "No, no, no. Stay where you are and enjoy your tea. In fact, I think I'll have one myself."

Fräulein Maria looked down. His attention was immediately drawn, not to the steaming cup, but to her hands. He had never paid any particular attention to her hands before – he never had any reason to. They were elegant, long fingered and not what he would have expected to find in a farm girl, probably used to hard work. Naturally, they were not exquisitely manicured like Elsa's hands. Fräulein Maria kept her fingernails shortly trimmed, and there wasn't the slightest hint of nail polish, or any other concession to vanity. The skin was marked here and there by tiny cuts and nicks, a testimony to her active life. In her right hand, just below her thumb, he saw the unmistakable imprint of a small child's teeth.

"_Gretl,_" he thought, smiling.

"What sort of concoction is that?" he asked her, pointing to the warm liquid she was staring at so intently.

"An old family recipe. It's peppermint, honey and… hmmm… a few other things." She did sound bad, her voice hoarse and he grimaced in reaction.

His governess was suddenly overcome with one of her uncontrollable verbal outbursts, as she began to give him the complete recipe of the suspicious brew she was drinking. She began by naming an unlikely mixture of herbs and spices that could be appealing separately, but not together in the same tea cup. Whatever it was, a good dose of brandy would make it easier to swallow. He wondered what she would think if he suggested that. He wagered that not a single drop of alcohol had ever touched those virginal lips of hers.

_Peppermint_ _and honey…_

He wondered if one could taste it in her lips. They were now moist and swollen because of the hot tea she had been drinking. For the second time in just a few minutes, he experienced another absurd reaction, this one entirely different than the one before. He no longer wanted to comfort her, he wanted to kiss her senseless now, kiss those moist, peppermint sweet lips that…

"Captain?" Her voice brought him back to his senses.

"I'm sorry, Fräulein, I was - far away. Did you just – uh - say something?"

"Yes!" She rolled her eyes impatiently. Apparently she could talk endlessly, incessantly and without any kind of control about whatever came out of her mouth, but she was not fond of repeating herself, he realized with a smirk.

"I was saying that I _know_ I am not supposed to wander around the house after hours but sometimes I can't sleep and…" she swallowed, "I needed to do something about my sore throat, otherwise I won't be able to even speak to the children in the morning, let alone teach them how to yodel…" She stopped herself suddenly, looking slightly guilty, as if she was just about to betray a secret. He resisted the temptation to ask her why on earth she was teaching the children to yodel.

"That would be quite torturous to you, wouldn't it? Not being able to speak," was his biting remark.

"That won't happen, Captain. People like myself can hardly afford the luxury of being sick," she retorted absentmindedly. "That is why I _always_ take good care of myself."

He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the old temptation of simply yelling at her. What was it about that girl and her unique talent for disturbing him and stepping in his toes? Didn't she know that after three years of grief, sickness was still a delicate subject to him? Didn't she guess? His wife always took good care of herself and in the end…

"_How could she know?_" a voice in his conscience spoke, a voice just like Agathe´s. It was enough to soften him. "_Calm down, Georg. She cannot know about what you have been though, it is not her fault. She speaks whatever is in her mind, things that simply are there."_

He sighed.

"Everybody gets sick once in a while, Fräulein, it can hardly be called a _luxury_. Baronesses or governesses, social class has nothing to do with it. Even the aristocracy isn't immune to anything – no one better than I know that," he said, starting to open some pantry doors below his head, not without noting that her face had paled, as she obviously became conscious of her _faux-pas_. "Now, where the devil does the cook keep the tea cups?"

"Second door to your right," she said stiffly. "I'm sorry; I meant no offense to you. Only that since I always took care of myself, I would be in a lot of trouble if I were bed ridden."

"Then you should have been more careful before jumping into cold lakes."

"_The boat tipped over_," she defended herself, vehemently. "I did not jump."

"You did the second time." He kept rambling about the incident, all of a sudden finding her annoyance utterly… charming. "It is beyond me, how you managed to accomplish that. The water was calm, there was no wind, and the lake looked like a mirror. Even a mud-duck could manage to sail in those conditions."

Her answer was to roll her eyes and look heavenwards, then at him. "There were seven children with me on the boat. We were not sailing, we were rowing. And I have no idea what a mud-duck is."

"A shallow water sailor," he spat, impatiently.

She remained silent, while he prepared his own cup of tea, and then sat next to her. He took a large sip from his cup. The taste surprised him.

"This is…" Her eyes widened, expectantly, and he did not disappoint her. "… not as vile as I thought it would be!"

"Of course not! My aunt used to say "_if it doesn't taste good, it won't cure you_"."

"That is utterly absurd, of course you realize that!"

She shrugged. "She was a farmer's wife, not a doctor."

"Mmmm." A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I must admit that I wish I had her in my family while I was growing up because my grandmother used to say just the opposite," he chuckled. To his amusement, the governess shuddered in revulsion. "Tell me, am I detecting a slight taste of…"

"Just a few drops, for medicinal purposes," she clarified, quickly, undoubtedly afraid he would be angry at her for raiding his prized wine cellar as well. Not that she would have needed to do that – it was a well known fact that the cook was particularly fond of the brand of schnapps with which she had laced her tea.

"All a part of your – uh - family recipe, I assume."

"Certainly!" she exclaimed, slightly offended.

"You would make a fortune selling this to my sailors if you were around when we still had a Navy," he noted. "You would not believe the things we had to eat and drink while we were at sea. Calling it "_tea_" would be offensive."

He added some more tea to his cup, added one sugar cube and stirred it. When he finished, he noticed that it was her turn to be staring at his hands. Apparently, she wasn't interested in his Navy stories, because he had rambled on for about five minutes and she did not say a word. It was not the second time he had noticed that, and again the fact tugged at his pride. Was there anything about him that she would find interesting at all?

He tried another approach, wondering where that had come from: an almost obsessive need to talk to her, and to hear her talk.

"You also would not believe the things my grandmother would force down my throat whenever I fell ill!"

She raised a pair of laughing blue eyes at him.

"Really?"

It should have been a highly improper situation. It was supposed to be so – as incongruous and inappropriate as he could think of. The widowed master of the house running into the young governess of his children in the middle of the night…

What they should have done would be barely acknowledge each other's presence, and then quickly walk back to wherever they came from. What they should not have done. What he should not have done was to sit with her in a kitchen table, drinking tea and tell her a few stories his very eccentric grandmother… the same remarkable woman who, one day, had advised him that the best way to find out if a bride was suitable would be to place a pine cone in her chair during an elegant dinner party (1).

They talked until the small hours of the morning.

---------------------------

**Chapter I**

Two weeks after the incident with the rowboat, life with the Trapp family had settled into a peaceful routine that was a perfect match to the unearthly beautiful countryside surrounding the villa in Aigen-bei-Salzburg. Maria's life had never been, according to her own definition, so _interesting_ before.

The children occupied most of her time, as expected. She followed the schedule of activities with a few changes: music and singing lessons instead of Austrian military history, not to mention picnics instead of marches around the ground breathing deeply. No uniforms either – the Captain once more had lots of fabric sent from town, this time for the children, so that Maria and Frau Poppmeier had their hands full with sewing more appropriate play clothes for them. The sailor suites were banished, at least for the moment. Louisa had even suggested that they made a large bonfire with them, but the Captain, quite obviously, had liked the idea at all.

Little by little, she also had the opportunity to be acquainted with other members of the household staff. Her position as a governess did not make the job easier and she soon found out that at least one thing she had read about governesses was true. She did occupy a peculiar position in the house – she was not family, although she had most of her meals with them and rarely ate with the rest of the staff. At the same time, the other maids did consider her as one of their own, and thus were reluctant to become friends with her. Frau Schmidt and Frau Poppmeier were the notable exceptions. The latter because of her age and experience, and Frau Schmidt because she also occupied a prominent position as the housekeeper.

Maria soon discovered, for instance, that Frau Schmidt was a most interesting and whimsical character. She had been the first to give Maria some invaluable advice shortly after arrival, something that she would always be thankful for (2).

"_Fräulein… Do you know how many governesses we had in the past years?"_

"_I'm the twelfth – the Captain told me as much."_

"_Allow me to give you some good advice, then – that is, if you want to keep your job until September. It will go easier for you, if you go strictly by the Captain's instructions. Order and discipline – that is what is most important to him. I dare say it is the only way he knows how to live now. He does not tolerate any transgressions in that respect, and I'm afraid that there is little or nothing you, of all people, can do about that. Others have tried and failed miserably. Why should you be any different? If you must know, in a few weeks – if you survive that long – it will be you who will be marching and breathing deeply, using that whistle to call your children. That is how the Captain is. One has to adapt to his ways, because changing him is impossible – unless you are some kind of miracle worker. Even the late Baroness had a hard time with him, sometimes."_

"_But…"_

"_Please, Fräulein, do try to understand. He had to follow rules all his life – that is how it is, not only in the military, but also in his family. In the war he was a famous officer, doing heroic deeds, all under water – which I can't imagine at all. Then came the defeat… But it was nothing compared to what happened to him when the Baroness died. Surely, the Captain loves his children very much – they are her children too, aren't they? However… he lost his connection with them when he lost her. He does not know how to reach them, nor they him. Very, very sad, indeed. The Baroness was such a remarkable woman, so full of life…" _

Although Maria did not follow the elderly woman's advice in the end, it had helped her to understand the dark and brooding Captain von Trapp a little better. And it brought her closer to Frau Schmidt, who, together with Frau Poppmeier, became not only her mentor, but the only two people she knew she could count on in the house, in case she got herself into some kind of mischief again.

Frau Schmidt used to show up often for a chat and a cup of tea while she was sewing late at night with Frau Poppmeier. Maria was baffled when she learned that the housekeeper had a most unusual talent – _fortune telling_ (3).

One evening, after the children retired, Maria found herself sitting in a small table, facing Frau Schmidt and her old tarot deck. Although the colorful cards, decorated with outlandish mythological figures fascinated her, naturally she had refused at first. In the end, she was not able to get out of it. Liesl, who was with them that day because they would be working on her dress, insisted.

"The von Trapps are a very superstitious lot, Fräulein," Liesl had said, "This is one of our little traditions. Everyone who is welcome in the house has to have the fortune read by Frau Schmidt." She winked, which gave Maria the distinct impression that she had just come up with that lame excuse.

"Hmmm…" was all Frau Schmidt said, as soon as the cards were laid on the table.

"Is there anything wrong?" Maria asked, worried. None of the cards on display alarmed her – there were no skeletons, no hanged men... Some of the cards were a bit outrageous, but that did not bother her too much.

"I thought you did not believe in any of this, Fräulein," Frau Schmidt observed slyly.

"I don't, but you do! And if it is so important to you, the least I could do is listen! I may not believe in the answer, but you will…"

"How very clever of you! You almost sound like the Captain, did you know that?" Maria shrugged. "In fact, he gave me a similar response a long time ago when I read the cards for him."

"He let you read the cards for him!?" Maria's eyes widened as she tried to imagine Georg von Trapp sitting in front of a tarot deck, waiting for his fortune to be told. She opened her mouth to question

Frau Schmidt further, in order to satisfy her curiosity, but the woman was looking at the cards spread in front of there, baffled.

"I don't understand, this does not make any sense at all. It's all… chaos, and disorder, and confusion!"

"Chaos, disorder and confusion? Well, that makes perfect sense to _me_!" Her life, with the exception of the peaceful years at Nonnberg, had been anything but ordinary and predictable.

"This is absurd. My readings are usually very precise. I ask a question, the cards answer me, it is as simple as that. In your case, when I try to make sense of it, I see things that should _not_ be here at all."

"What things?" Maria had asked, now openly curious.

"No, my dear, I do not wish to disturb you any further. If they do not make any sense to me, you must believe me, they won't make any sense to you."

"Will I ever be a good nun? That is all I would like to know and nothing more," Maria reassured her.

"If you _must_ know, the answer is… _no_," Frau Schmidt answered curtly, after a brief moment of hesitation.

Maria uttered an outraged little moan. "No? What do you mean – "_no_"?! But that is impossible, I…"

"Well, you wanted to know, didn't you? You asked for it, even though I said it would disturb you. You may yell and kick and scream, Fräulein Maria, but there _is_ a man in your future."

"A what?" Maria shrieked. Behind her, Liesl giggled.

"A _man._ And not a father, or a brother, or even an uncle, if that is what you are wondering. A brave, honorable, _handsome_ man – and that is all I will say. There is no doubt about that."

"Who?" Liesl asked, coming to sit next to Maria, who looked at her horrified. "Come on, Fräulein, you can't help but being curious about it! Didn't you hear what she said? He will be _handsome_!"

But Frau Schmidt only shook her head, as Maria rolled her eyes heavenward. "That is where craziness begins. What I see is so absurd even I don't believe in it."

"No, you must have read it wrong. That is why I do not believe in these things! You said you did not believe in your reading yourself, didn't you? You are right, it makes no sense at all."

"My cards have never deceived me, and I trust them completely!"

"She is right, Fräulein!" said Liesl. "Frau Schmidt saw in the cards long ago that father would live to be one hundred years old, see two wars, marry twice and father ten children (4)."

"There!" Maria exclaimed triumphantly. "None of these things happened yet, did they? Your father only married once, he only has seven children…"

"So far…" Frau Schmidt chanted, impishly.

"… and we all pray every night so that there won't be a second great war. Besides, he'll live to be a hundred or not, no one will know for quite a while, don't you think?"

"You are absolutely right, Fräulein!" A familiar deep male voice spoke behind them. "And there is something I never thought I would hear myself saying," he continued, speaking almost to himself.

Frau Schmidt broke the silence.

"Oh well, Fräulein, if you don´t want to, then you don´t. We can always try again in a few days, and maybe things will not appear so confused and illogical, but this time."

"No," Maria said simply, adamant in her refusal. Frau Schmidt, however, had never been a woman who gave up easily.

"What about one card only?"

"It's all right, Fräulein, I'll do it for you," the Captain intervened, walking into the room and coming to stand just behind her chair. "Trust me, this is the only way she will leave you alone," he said with a quick smile. Before she could stop him, the Captain reached for a card and turned it over.

"_The Lovers"__ (5)._

The Captain smirked and Maria felt herself flushing hotly at first, since the card depicted a half nude embraced couple. For a few embarrassing moments she felt every person in the room staring at her.

"_No wonder Frau Schmidt was led to believe I'll never be a nun!_" she thought. "_I only wish she would stop seeing handsome men in my future. It is most… unsettling!_"

Liesl, who was having a hard time controlling her giggles, was about to say something but she was immediately silenced with a look from her father. Frau Schmidt's expression was unreadable.

"Hah!" was all she said. "I think we are doing this the wrong way. You should take a card _yourself_, Fräulein, since it is you that I owe this reading to."

Of course Frau Schmidt did not need to explain the rest to Maria – it was the Captain who had picked the card, so its meaning was for him, and for him only. _The lovers…_ Since he and Baroness Schraeder…

No, she did not want to dwell upon that either.

Maria watched closely as Frau Schmidt shuffled the deck once more, and handled it to her. She stole a quick glance to the Captain, who was standing silently next to her, and his look conveyed a very clear message, so that he hardly had to say the next words.

"Just humor her for once in your life, Fräulein. I guarantee that she will never leave you alone if you do not. I know that because it happened to me!"

"Captain!" Frau Schmidt explained, a bit shocked.

"All right," Maria moaned, defeated, and picked another card from the deck. And gasped.

It was "_the lovers_" again.

Next to her, the infuriating Captain chuckled.

"Interesting. Well, this has _never_ happened before," Frau Schmidt muttered. "I am not sure what to make of it."

She did not let Frau Schmidt's fortune telling disturb her any further, in spite of the curious outcome, and in a few days, she had completely forgotten the whole incident – which had ended in laughter, when Max walked in and asked his fortune to be read.

_The Captain… _

Now he appeared at the strangest times out of nowhere just to defend her. On another occasion, Frau Schmidt's son-in-law, who sometimes helped Herr Schmidt with the gardening, had playfully tried to slap Maria's backside (6). She had successfully avoided it in the last possible instant, but the Captain saw it all. She never knew how the scene ended, for he had ordered her to run back to the house. If she thought initially that he would be angry with her, she had been wrong – he was not. He never mentioned the incident again, but later she was told that the Captain went for the boy with a vengeance, and yelled until the poor lad's ears were red. He also forbade him to set foot in the villa again.

Fortunately, she did not have to face his wrath again, not since the incident in the lake. There had not been any further confrontations (7) between them, since all the changes in the children's activities were approved by him. No fights, no name calling, no accusations. It was like a truce had been called, one that Maria did not know how long it would last. She could almost feel him cringing when he saw, for instance, his children climbing the trees in the garden or playing hide and seek in Agathe´s precious rose garden. Or during a rainy day not long ago, when they had to stay inside the house, and she had taught the children how to blow soap bubbles, so that they scattered all over the house, even in his study. Other than that, he rarely interfered now when she was taking care of the children, which should be enough for her to conclude that she was doing everything more or less right. Considering, however, that it was the Captain…

_The Captain…_

There were times she had the distinct feeling that he was avoiding her like the plague, only to catch him watching her and the children with a strange look in his face. Sometimes he ignored her completely, acting like she barely existed at all, only to call her moments later to ask for her opinion about something entirely unrelated to the children's upbringing.

"_But Captain, I don't know a thing about breeding horses!"_

"_I know you know nothing, Fräulein, I think we have established that. However, I do like the workings of your mind at times. Curiously, you are able to have original ideas even about things you absolutely know nothing about."_

Because of the "_workings of her mind_",as he called them, seemed to intrigue him, to say the least, sometimes, after the children were in bed, Maria would find herself in the middle of a heated debate with Georg von Trapp about a variety of subjects ranging from Austrian politics to gardening. The first time it happened he had surprised her in the kitchen, where she used to go for a nightcap before retiring. It became almost routine to them after that, those five minutes of talk with that incredibly witty man whose mind defied hers relentlessly. The last time had been a couple of days ago, and, oddly enough, ever since then, she missed these occasional short debates with him, she missed his wit, although his sarcasm and his dark sense of humor were, at times, a little too much for her to handle.

-----------------------------------------------

The day after Frau Schmidt read the cards for her would be her first day off since she had been working at the Trapp Villa.

Not that she had _asked_ for it. Two days ago, the Captain called her to his study, and, much to her surprise, he apologized to her, rather awkwardly, because he had quite simply _forgotten_ to give her a few of days to rest. She tried to argue with him, to no avail. So now she had not one, but three days to herself – Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

Now, it was only Friday morning, and she was already _bored. _The hours dragged, and she did not know what to do, did not have a thing that she could do. _Boredom_ - or _ennui_, as Georg von Trapp elegantly called it, was a feeling that Maria was not used to. In fact, for as long as she remembered, her whole life had been a continuous struggle to fight it. Even in the convent, where chores kept her busy all day. When there were no chores to be done, she always found something to do, and that usually meant getting herself into some kind of trouble, minor or major.

_What to do with her day?_

It was raining lightly, and going to the mountains did not appeal to her in this kind of weather. The children were not at home, having been sent to Innsbruck earlier that day, for their monthly visit to their maternal grandparents. She had seen the Captain leaving very early in the morning, accompanied by Herr Detweiler and the Baroness, all of them wearing riding gear. She supposed that, considering that it had started to rain, they would be back soon, although to her, it would not make any difference.

And there she was, with seventy-two idle hours stretching ahead of her. No children, no chores… No sewing, since they had finished the children's clothes the day before. There _had _to be something around the house that she could do, without getting into too much trouble in the process – trouble which she had to avoid in order not to clash with her employer again. The Captain's household staff was not as large as one would have imagined in an aristocratic house, simply because – as she overheard him telling the Baroness once – he found it hard to tolerate too many strangers following him around everywhere and breathing down his neck. As a result, there were days when there was just too much to do and not a lot of people to do it.

With that in mind, she remembered the nursery, and the chaotic state the children had left it the day before, and decided to do something about it. The Captain had practically _ordered_ her not to do anything, but she shrugged. It was not like she _obeyed_ him all the time, was it?

As she headed towards the hallway, noise coming from downstairs attracted her attention. Forgetting all about the nursery at once, she run to the foyer and nearly collided with two of the maids, Franziska and Hilde trying to carry a ladder.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Here, let me help you," she gladly volunteered. She knew there had to be something she could do, and she was right about it. The poor girls could barely support the weight of the ladder, and they did need help. More than that, if they were carrying that ladder somewhere, there had to be something there that she could do to help them – even if that meant only carrying things around. ""Oh Lord, this is heavy! Where are the gentlemen in this house when we need them?" she muttered, but the girls only laughed.

Maria could not hide her surprise when they reached their destination.

_T__he ballroom._

She could hardly believe her eyes. She stopped and stared at the open doors, absolutely aghast.

"Fräulein?" one of the maids asked, when she could no longer move towards the room.

"Ehm… ahhh… I thought this room was – ehm - _not to be disturbed_," she said.

"Yes, so did we, but apparently the Captain had a change of heart," the one called Hilde replied.

"You mean _the Baroness_ changed _his_ mind," Franziska retorted. "I heard her pleading with him the other day, to let her use the ballroom for a party."

"Really?" said Maria excitedly.

"Nonsense," the first maid continued. "He will never allow it. The Captain is not the type of man who is so easily manipulated, not even by the likes of that high and mighty Baroness Schraeder. If he wants the ballroom open it is because he wants it, not because some elegant lady from Vienna told him so! Even the late Baroness – may God bless her soul – even her could not make him change his mind when he did not want to!"

"I don't think I can disagree with that!" Maria muttered, more worried about carrying the weight of the ladder than about what the girls were gossiping about.

Franziska shook her head. "Well, he _has_ changed. He is not the same since he returned from Vienna. Look at how much time he spends with the children now. Playing games, sometimes just talking to them for hours."

"Yes! Yesterday he was teaching Friedrich and Kurt how to fence," Hilde remarked.

Maria blushed guiltily, glad that the girls were so engrossed in their debate that they hardly noticed her anymore. She saw him and the boys from her bedroom window, and stood there watching them, for as long as the lesson lasted, unable to leave. Instead of yelling and scolding the boys after a wrong move, he laughed! She had never heard a man laugh like such, and most certainly not _him_. In fact, she never imagined he would be capable of laughing like that. It made him appear years younger, and oh, so achingly handsome! It brought her attention, for the first time, to the fact that he had _dimples_.

Wasn't it wrong, for her, destined to be a bride of Christ, to think about a man in such a way? Not any man, one who was not only her employer, but also an aristocrat, and probably Austria's most beloved hero? No she better not dwell too much on such inappropriate thoughts. If she insisted, she might be forced to go to confession, something that she hated, although, as a Catholic, she was obliged to. At the same time, she never saw anything nothing wrong in finding someone handsome or beautiful, man or woman. It was a statement of a fact, nothing more than that – just like appreciating a work of art. The fact that she had met so few people in her life that she could apply that adjective to was irrelevant. Certainly she had never met any men, in the flesh, she would call even passably _handsome_. What she knew of male beauty was from works of art, and from the few movies she saw in her life, although even Rodolfo Valentino failed to impress her with all his glory, dressed as an Arabian Sheik. Her friend Theresa, on the other hand, had literally swooned, and made quite a spectacle of herself. Maria could not help but imagine what Theresa would have to say about the Captain´s dimples…

At some point, the Captain obviously sensed he was being the subject of her close scrutiny, and he looked up at her window. The laughter did not die in his lips, as she would have expected it would. Instead, he kept smiling, and performed a graceful bow, as a knight would do to a lady watching a duel. Her heart fluttered curiously, and for a moment she failed to catch her breath.

"_He is right, I must be too tired,_" she thought about her reaction.

All she could so was to give him a rather silly smile in return, and then step away from the window as fast as she possibly could.

"Baroness Schraeder _has_ to have something to do with it," Franziska continued, bringing Maria's mind back to the present.

"Not the Baroness, silly. _Fräulein Maria_," Hilde said behind her, in a tone so mischievous that was enough to make Maria feel oddly uncomfortable. She stopped cold.

"I had _nothing_ to do with it," she said, defensively, and in a louder tone of voice than she intended to.

"Oh yes, you do," giggled Franziska.

"Yes, he is not the same since you came, Fräulein. You don't know what it was like around here _before_, so you cannot possibly know."

"But… but… but all I did was to teach the children a few songs!"

"Just a few songs, indeed!" the girl muttered, rather scathingly.

"Oh, do be quiet, Hilde! There is no need to be so defensive. We are not implying _anything_," said Franziska with a wink. "Are we, Hilde?"

"What do you mean by _anything_?" asked Maria, annoyed because she had the distinct impression that she was supposed to know exactly what the maids were talking about, but she still had no clue.

Frau Schmidt appeared from somewhere behind Maria, saving her from further distress. "Enough chit-chat girls! We have plenty of work to do here today! The ballroom must be ready by tomorrow. Come on now, let us bring that inside. Hilde, you may go back upstairs after you finish this – Baroness Schraeder has just returned from her morning ride and she needs you. Franziska, you stay here and help."

The doors were fully open – all the doors, not merely ajar as they had been before, including the ones which lead to a garden maze outside. Frau Poppmeier was already inside, looking up helplessly at the crystal chandeliers, still hidden under dust cloths. For the first time, Maria saw the room full of light, even if the day outside wasn't exactly bright. There were all kinds of cleaning material scattered all over the floor. Several large boxes lay in the middle of the room, wrapped in brown paper, and she wondered if they were not the _surprise_ Herr Detweiler had promised the children the day before.

"Now, there is someone who could help us," Frau Schmidt exclaimed, in her usual slightly mischievous tone, glancing towards Maria.

"Fräulein Maria!" Frau Poppmeier was smiling openly to her. "You do seem like a brave young woman."

"I like to believe I am," she admitted proudly, walking into the room.

The women looked up to the ceiling again, and Maria followed the direction of their gazes.

"We need to at least see the state these chandeliers are in. We have to remove the dust cloths and see if we'll have to call someone to bring them down in order to be properly cleaned."

"The problem is that no one," Frau Schmidt said, with an annoyed glance towards the younger maid who remained in the room, "is brave enough to climb up there."

Franziska protested. "But Frau Schmidt, I am with child!"

"That does not mean you are sick, are you?"

Maria jumped to defend the girl, who looked like she wasn't much older than herself. "Oh, Frau Schmidt, she is right. She should not climb up there in her condition. What if she has a dizzy spell and fell down the ladder? It could harm the baby."

"Dizzy spell indeed," Frau Schmidt muttered. "When I was pregnant with my first daughter, I worked until the day she was born! This because I wanted to, not because anyone told me to!"

Maria rolled her eyes. "All right. It shouldn't be a problem for _me_ at all. I'll do it!"

"Really?" the girl smile, relieved.

"If the Captain told you to rest, it is what you should be doing, Fräulein – resting. You are not supposed to be working today," advised Frau Poppmeier.

"Oh, nonsense. I am sure the Captain would not allow a pregnant woman to climb a ladder just to clean one of his precious chandeliers!"

"She could be right about that one! Remember how protective he was of the Baroness whenever she was expecting…" Frau Schmidt exclaimed.

"Besides, this could be so much fun, so, in a way, it will be – ehm – restful, won't it?" She started climbing the ladder, and when she was half way to the top, she looked down to the three women below. "You must have more important things to do. You may leave this to me for the moment. If I need help, I'll call you."

Both the elderly women hesitated.

"Go, all of you. You must have more important things to do in this house. Besides, if the Captain waited so long to have this room reopened, he can certainly bear to wait another few hours."

"Well, she is right about that one," Frau Schmidt sighed. "All right then. Let me know when you are done with the chandeliers."

"Hm mm." Maria nodded.

"And do not touch those boxes," Frau Schmidt warned before she left.

"What are they?"

"I am not sure exactly. Something terribly expensive Herr Detweiler bought for the children. It is supposed to be fully assembled in this room by the time they arrive. The Captain is expecting someone from Salzburg to do that tomorrow morning."

Although Maria was curious about the mysterious boxes, she decided not to investigate them for the moment. She smiled, relieved – she had something to do, something useful, and, what made it even more wonderful, something that was not likely to get her into trouble.

At least that was what she sincerely hoped!

----------------------

_A/N: (1) "The Baroness and the Pine Cone".__ (2) This dialogue, minus a few changes I made, can be found in the movie "Die Trapp Familie". (3) The idea was inspired by the Japanese anime version of the Trapp family story. In the Japanese version, the housekeeper – who happened to be a Baroness also – used to read the cards. She read them for Maria, and all she saw was chaos and confusion. I decided to take it a little further… (4) See the introductory chapter to Georg von Trapp´s "To the last salute", especially the excerpt quoted in the beginning of this chapter. (5) __"LOVE is a force that makes you choose and decide for reasons you often can't understand; it makes you surrender control to a higher power. And that is what this card is all about. Finding something or someone who is so much a part of yourself, so perfectly attuned to you and you to them, that you cannot, dare not resist. In interpretation, the card indicates that the querent has come across, or will come across a person, career, challenge or thing that they will fall in love with. They will know instinctively that they must have this, even if it means diverging from their chosen path. No matter the difficulties, without it they will never be complete." Source - __.__ - about the meaning of the tarot card "The Lovers". (6) __Another situation inspired by something I saw in the Japanese anime version of the story. __(7) __See "Intermezzo I – Ignorance is Bliss". _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: My thanks to everybody who reviewed the story so far, and most especially to lovethisstuff, for helping me to correct a few grammar points in this and in the following chapters._

**Edelweiss**

**Chapter I****I**

_**---**_

_**Getting to know you,  
Getting to know all about you.  
Getting to like you,  
Getting to hope you like me.**_

**Getting to know you,  
Putting it my way,  
But nicely,  
You are precisely,  
My cup of tea.**

**Getting to know you,  
Getting to feel free and easy  
When I am with you,  
Getting to know what to say**

**Haven't you noticed  
Suddenly I'm bright and breezy?  
Because of all the beautiful and new  
Things I'm learning about you  
Day by day.**

**Getting to know you,  
Getting to feel free and easy  
When I am with you,  
Getting to know what to say**

**Haven't you noticed  
Suddenly I'm bright and breezy?  
Because of all the beautiful and new  
Things I'm learning about you  
Day by day.**

_**Rodgers & Hammerstein, **_**Getting to know you **_**(from "The King and I")**_

---

Elsa's pleas to have the ballroom open and fully restored to its old splendor had annoyed him at first. He had no wish to see his wife's favorite room in the house filled with people and laughter when she was no longer there to enjoy it. Of all people, Elsa should be the one to understand how difficult it was for him to let go of certain things, and never before she had pushed him too far. Yes, he knew that eventually he would have to forget that ridiculous idea of keeping the room closed, but that would happen when _he_ decided it was time for it to happen and not one minute before. After all, he was still "_the Captain_" and he was not about to start allowing women to rule over his life, starting with Elsa von Schraeder, end ending with that infuriating little governess.

"_No, not the governess, _the children!_"_ he corrected his own thoughts. She should not have anything to do with this.

Yes, the Captain was certain that it was the children, and _only_ the children, who finally persuaded him to open the ballroom after Fräulein Maria insinuated that the room would be just the perfect place for the puppet show they were planning to stage. After having convinced himself of that, he did not even think twice before ordering that the room be opened, aired, and then fully cleaned to repair the damage caused by years of neglect.

Undoubtedly, the Captain loved his children and wanted to please them—mostly because he desperately needed to make up for his absence from their lives since their mother died. He needed to fix the damage that his selfish behavior had caused, before it was too late. Of course he realized, not without a certain degree of exasperation, that he seemed to always take his cues on what he should do for his children from the governess, but he told himself with absolute conviction that she was simply showing good sense. It was completely lost on him that he might just be wanting to please _her_ too… He refused to even consider the possibility, notwithstanding Max's warning (1) a few days earlier.

"_Georg, you are playing with fire,_" Max's warning words echoed in his brain.

He simply refused to take those words to heart--he would be caught dead before he would admit that _she_ actually had anything to do with his decisions, including opening the ballroom. Whenever such a preposterous idea occurred to him, he simply banished it.

"_She is just a mere governess!_" he would just yell at himself, in thought, sometimes pounding his fist on his desk in his study.

The fact that the Captain showed such deference to the governess — and her suggestions — also was not lost on Elsa, particularly with respect to the ballroom. By the time he had finished giving his instructions on opening the ballroom to Frau Schmidt; Elsa was looking at him with a quizzical expression in her face.

"What is the matter, darling? Isn't that what you wanted?"

She raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows at him and remarked, with an irony that all but matched his own. "Yes, _darling, _it was what _I_ wanted. Yet, _you_ refused it when I asked you…"

Oh, he thought he knew what it was all about; she was jealous of his newfound relationship with his children. He had thought that a secure, sophisticated, experienced woman like Elsa von Schraeder would be immune to the green monster, but quite obviously he was wrong. Her look, like Max's warning, conveyed a very clear message.

"_Georg, you are playing with fire,_" Max's warning words sounded once more.

"I am saying yes now, so what is the difference?" he said. She kept giving him those odd looks. "The children need the room," he added in a final, almost militaristic tone. It was enough for Elsa to lower her eyes and stop prying him about the subject, although, knowing her as she did, he knew that eventually, she would bring it up again.

Baronesses and governesses aside, the plain fact was that, like music, the memories of the ballroom did not hurt him anymore. What _did_ hurt, however, was the look on faces of Gretl and Marta as they played with puppets they had made themselves with old socks. He decided quickly to do something about that, but learned that Max was already a step ahead. Only a few moments after the children left for the weekend, a complete puppet theatre was delivered to the Trapp villa, made by one of Salzburg's most notorious puppeteers. When the Captain read the name inscribed in the boxes, he could not help but to feel impressed. The gift must have cost Max a small fortune, but he immediately concluded that, knowing his friend as he did, that he would be the one paying for it anyway.

His staff was starting to clean the ballroom now, he realized, while he read his morning paper in his study. There was a cacophony of female voices breaking the usual silence that reigned inside the house, and he could distinguish those of Frau Schmidt and Frau Poppmeier. The other two voices must belong to the two upstairs maids. The fifth voice should not be there at all. In fact, only the day before, he had _commanded_ that she should not be there – but then, after two weeks, he should know that she was never where she was supposed to be.

He stopped just outside the door to the ballroom. Four women were gone, and only the fifth remained inside. It was the governess, and she was not attempting a clumsy waltz, although, like in that very first day, she was wearing a hideous brown jumper she probably had made herself. The fact that she was standing on top of a ladder, carefully examining one of the chandeliers, her face partially hidden by the crystal beads, did not surprise him. Neither did the dowdy dress, which did nothing to her enhance her figure that…

He put a sudden, violent halt to his thoughts.

Why the devil was he annoyed by the fact that the governess clothes did nothing to enhance her figure?

Instead, he tried to concentrate on something else.

_She was__ singing. _

If he had any second thoughts about re-opening the ballroom, they magically dissipated when he heard her.

It was the first time he was actually hearing her sing without having her voice partially drowned by the sound of the children's voices. She had an annoyingly perfect pitch, at least for someone like him, who always thought that his own musical talents were inadequate, no matter what everyone else used to tell him about his music. He had never achieved the degree of perfection he had always wanted… but the governess had, and without even trying. No, her voice was probably not strong enough for her to sing an Opera, but it had the most amazingly pure, crystalline quality to it.

"_I'm very much impressed, Fräulein,_" he said inwardly. No wonder she had been able to make his children's singing rival that of the Vienna Boy's Choir. He should have imagined that she had an educated voice as well. Hell, he should have imagined it by only listening to her speak! The way her voice became higher when she was happier, and the way it lowered almost to a contralto when she was angry…

Frowning, he realized that once more, he had allowed _her_ to occupy his thoughts, so he put all his considerations about her singing aside for a moment, and focused in at least one reason he had to be annoyed with her again.

He had told her specifically to take the day off and, once again, she was disobeying his orders – deliberately, if he knew her well. The little project of a nun seemed to find some curious perverse delight in provoking him. He knew how his children could be tiresome, even to such an energetic person as Fraülein Maria, and his conscience still plagued him about the fact that he had been returned from Vienna for two weeks before he remembered she didn't have even a day to rest.

"_What is she up to now?_" he muttered under his breath.

He turned his attention back to the song for a moment (2) - and frowned. Fräulein Maria he was singing it in _Italian,_ even though she had told him she spoke no other language other than her mother tongue.

"_Signore guidami  
E dimmi cosa fare  
Ho visto l'amore della mia vita  
E lui ha visto me..." (3)_

He knew the piece rather well – someone possessing dubious talent for poetry had written the lyrics to be sung with one of Vivaldi´s best known themes from "_The Four Seasons_". Agathe was particularly fond of it, but he called it some kind of unoriginal musical gibberish, saying that if the great Italian composer wanted his Four Seasons to have lyrics, he would have written them himself. Nevertheless, the aria suited not only the whole atmosphere of the ballroom, with the rain falling outside, but her voice and her spirit perfectly. He found himself unable to stop listening.

_  
__"__Sono confusa, lui mi confonde  
Gli voglio dire che l'amo  
E spero dira lo stesso..." __(4)  
_

"_Does she have any idea of what she is singing? Does she even know what she is saying?_" he wondered.

Somehow, he doubted it.

Her Italian was flawed, and she made some serious grammatical errors here and there which gave him the indication that she learned the words to the song somewhere only to be able to sing it.

At the Abbey?

Probably not – it was a love song, not a religious one. He honestly doubted that the postulants were allowed to sing anything so… _secular._ Considering that, he had to ask himself how she managed to do so with so much… _feeling_.

"_Sono passate due settimane  
La vita scorre veloce  
Il mio cuore batte forte  
Signore guidami e dammi pace  
Ti chiedo cose dire, come dirlo..." (5) _

He came closer to the door, hoping to continue watching her, without being seen.

"_Mostrami come dire che l'amo  
Mostrami come dire che mi ama  
Sto pregando che dira di amarmi..." (6) _

"Who_ is she thinking about?_" he thought over and over again.

No one could sing a love song with such feeling and not have _anyone_ in mind – at least that was what he believed. Maybe she had not lived sheltered in a convent all her life, maybe she…

He felt an uncomfortable stab of - of what? _Jealousy?_

No, it couldn't be. It was unthinkable, how could he be jealous of his governess? On the other hand, how could the thought of her sighing because of another man be enough to make him… _uncomfortable? _

The thought was ludicrous, and he quickly convinced himself that it was _the children_, not the governess, he worried about. It was always crucial to him that the women he hired to look after the children had unquestionable moral standards. Oh yes, he'd had his share of problems before with the previous eleven governesses. One of them had hidden her notorious past under a false name. Another one had tried – successfully - to seduce his equerry, and another had tried – unsuccessfully - to seduce _him (7)_. When he went to a convent to choose a governess, he firmly believed that he would not have to deal with any of those particular problems again.

Had he been wrong?

If Fräulein Maria had a love interest somewhere… The thought was enough to make him cringe again, and he decided to put a stop to it.

_  
_"Indeed, Fraülein, _who_ has you so confused?!" he asked abruptly, from the door, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning casually against the door.

She jumped with a yelp, and turned around much too quickly, so that she almost fell down from the ladder. He sucked his breath, and took a couple of steps forward, in her direction, so that he would be able to catch her if she fell, but she held on just in time. The chandelier rocked dangerously, and she had to avert her head in order not to be hit.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," she mumbled, and then turned to him with a look so severe that it was comical. He knew what she meant – obviously, she had no wish to fall on top of him again (8) . "Oh, Captain, don't you _ever_ do that again!"

He felt his lips twitch into a smile, but he suppressed it, and quickly returned to his authoritarian persona. "Get down at once… _Please_."

She started to climb down the ladder, slowly and carefully, and he could not help but wonder why on earth she had decided to obey him so quickly.

"Isn't that beautiful?" she asked, pausing in the middle of the ladder to look up at the glittering chandelier. The lights were, and the beads shone in every possible color of the rainbow. "I still wonder how could you bear to part from something so magnificent."

"It is just light being refracted by the glass at different angles depending on the color," he said irritably. "There is nothing extraordinary about it."

"Oh, I should know that," she muttered, skipping the last two or three steps and jumping to the ground.

"You should know what?"

"Only you, Captain, would be able to completely butcher all the poetry contained in a rainbow!"

Did she just insult him? – he had to ask himself. If she had, it was something he knew deep inside he deserved to hear. He _knew_ that. It was the same idea that had driven Elsa to call him _unromantic_ only a couple of weeks before. No matter what, she had no right to censor him like that. His face hardened.

She bit her lips. "Oh I'm sorry – I insulted you again, didn't I!"

"I should be getting used to it by now. You were being brutally honest as usual, Fräulein, that is all. You and Baroness Schraeder would he happy to know that I am working on my poetic and romantic qualities," he said sarcastically, with a slight bow.

"Baroness Schraeder?"

"Why? Do you find it so hard to believe?"

She scratched her head. "I do have a terrible time trying to imagine the Baroness insulting you in any way, Captain."

"She called me _unromantic_ the other day," he blurted out, before he could stop himself. It was another one of her annoying little talents – to make him say things that one simply did not share with a governess. She seemed to be equally surprised – if not by the information he provided, then by the content of that information. Her eyes widened, and she giggled.

"Now you are going to tell me that you agree with her," he said, the look in her face making it impossible for him to simply drop the subject.

"Well, quite frankly, Captain, it is hard enough for me to control my running mouth without having you provoking me at all times!" She blinked a few times.

He was rendered speechless for a moment – _him_ provoking _her_? That was absurd, it was…

She continued speaking. "But I have decided, since the last incident, that I will try my best _never_ to allow my honesty to get me into trouble with you again."

He inhaled deeply.

"Fräulein…"

He was going to question her further about the fact that she might think of him as unromantic as well. Somehow, he did not like the fact that he was giving her such an impression. Yet, at the same time, he was back to the good, old argument – why should the opinion of a governess matter at all to him? None of the previous eleven governesses had exactly liked him, and that had not mattered at all… Oh well, with the notable exception of Fräulein… What was her name? _Wiesenegg_, or something equally atrocious. But the woman had liked him a little too much, and that had been precisely the problem.

_Unromantic,_ indeed.

All the women he had courted in his life, including the last one, to whom he had been happily married for nearly twenty years, would certainly beg to differ. First Elsa, and now this little spitfire… It did not sting so much when Elsa said it, certainly because it was the first time in his life he had heard such an unjust accusation. But the thought that the governess might indicate _she_ had the same opinion about him -- it had felt different.

"Never mind, this is none of your concern at all," he dismissed, a bit haughtily, he had to admit. The little Fräulein was taken aback, and he could almost swear that she had been a little bit hurt by his superior tone. Almost immediately, however, she was looking up at him challengingly again, and he rose to the bait. "Now, I believe we have established quite clearly that you are _not_ supposed to be doing any work today."

"We did. Well, as a matter of fact, _you_ did. But I thought you would not mind if I…"

"Oh yes, I _do_ mind. What do you think you are doing? Your job is to work with the children, and not to do household chores. Since the children are away this weekend…" He stopped for a moment when something occurred to him. "_Who_ has asked you to do this? Did someone order you to…"

"Oh no, no, no!" she denied firmly, facing him squarely, before he accused any other member of his household staff unfairly.

No, she did not need _that_, not when she was doing her best to have them like her at least a little. Granted, with the exception of Frau Schmidt and Frau Poppmeier they had not been that crazy about her from the start. Apparently, they all resented her boisterous manners, her lack of refinement in some situations. The chamber maids and the cook, in particular, resented the fact that a girl with no experience and little background had achieved the coveted position of governess in an aristocratic family so quickly and, apparently, with no effort at all. Little by little, though, she was able to win them all over – with the exception of Franz, of course – although she still did not feel that they considered her as one of their own.

"No one sent me here," she continued. And I'm not really working, Captain. I'm… I was just _singing_!"

He did not believe her for a moment. "And my crystal chandelier is your dance partner, perhaps?"

"I assure you, Captain, there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this." He cocked his eyebrows at her, and she continued, exasperated. "Frau Schmidt and Frau Poppmeier could not climb up there, not with their age. Frau Poppmeier is nearly eighty years old and she suffers from rheumatism. Frau Schmidt is terribly afraid of heights, did you know that?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I obviously do know that, Fräulein, but…"

She interrupted him again. "The maid, Franziska, is expecting. I just _had_ to help them! I do not fear heights, I do not suffer from rheumatism," she blushed slightly when she said that, obviously remembering the pine cone incident. "And I am most definitely _not _with child! So tell me why I should not…"

"Fräulein!" he exclaimed impatiently.

"Yes?"

"I see your point, so please make an effort and try to see mine, will you? An exhausted and overworked governess is not going to help the children or myself. Nor will a governess with a broken leg be of any use to me. Believe me when I say that when the children return from Innsbruck on Sunday they will have doubled their energy, so you should be prepared. Leave that blasted chandelier alone. I'll ask someone else to help."

"But…"

"You go out. Go to town. Go do… what women usually do there. Buy something _for you_," he added, just in case she would want to spend her salary buying trinkets for the children. "I am sure you will think of something!"

Amused, he saw her scratching her head. No, she probably had no idea about what ordinary women did during a shopping spree in Salzburg. Of course she had been up and down Getreidegasse in her rare, idle days, but with empty pockets it was useless to even enter any of the inviting shops. In spite of that, he had told her – no, he had _ordered_ her to buy something for _her_? She frowned, then smiled to herself, as if she realizing that, for the first time in her life, she could actually _do _that. He paid her handsomely, and although she sent most of it to the Abbey, she still was left with more cash in her hands than she ever had.

"All right," she shrugged happily, and started skipping towards the door.

There was still something he was curious about. Something he had to find out. He would _not_ let her get away so easily.

"I am still curious. Why are you confused?" She stopped and turned around to face him again.

"Ehm – _confused_, Captain?"

"The song you were singing." He quotes one of the verses, without singing.

"_Sono confusa, lui mi confonde  
Gli voglio dire che l'amo  
E spero dira lo stesso..."_

She smiled broadly, and appeared to be genuinely impressed. "Oh so that is how it is pronounced! I don't think even Theresa (9) would say it that well."

"Fräulein," he insisted.

"All right, Captain. Music always has a way of… _confusing_ my soul a little bit, but I am learning to live with it."

He decided not to dwell upon her candid, but very meaningful admission, and insisted. "A woman moaning that she is confused by the love of her life – she doesn't know whether he loves her or not, and doesn't even know how to ask him. _That_ is what you were singing." He did not mean to sound accusing, and yet he did, even to his own ears.

"Oh, is that what it said?" She sounded genuinely surprised, but not at all embarrassed.

"You did not know that, did you?"

"I had no idea. A friend of mine used to sing this all the time. It was impossible not to learn the words."

"_Hah!_" he thought. "_Then _there is_ a friend, at least_!"

"What friend?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Theresa – she is a postulant too, although she is not sure she will make a very good nun."

"Are you sure _you_ will make a good nun - Fräulein?"

"Absolutely."

It could be only his imagination, but for a moment he thought he detected the slightest glimmer of hesitation in her voice. She sounded confident, but it was forced, as if she needed to convince herself of the truthfulness of her answer as well. He decided to provoke her just a little bit. He just could not help himself.

"It must be refreshing – to know what you want from life and how to get it. I do envy you at times!"

Her short intake of breath was audible, as she looked at him once more before leaving. The look in her eyes told him all he wanted to know.

No, she was not sure. She was not sure at all!

-------------------------

_A/N: (1) __See "Intermezzo I – Ignorance is Bliss". (2) The lyrics are from Vivaldi´s Rain, by Celtic Woman. The music is by Vivaldi, but the lyrics are new. I realize the song did not exist at the time of the story, but the lyrics fit everything perfectly. (3) __Lord, guide me / And tell me what to do / I've seen the love of my life / And he has seen me… (4) __I am confused, he confuses me / I want to tell him I love him / And I hope he will / say he loves me too… (5) Two weeks have passed / __Life goes by fast / My heart beats strong / Lord, guide me and grant me peace / I ask you what to say, how to say it… (6) Show me how to say I love him / Show me how to say he loves me / I'm praying that he'll say that he loves me… (7) I This idea __was inspired by a story Max ("maxisback") was working one, entitled "The 11 governesses". I hope she returns to the TSOM fandom to finish it and publish it. I also hope she won't mind the reference to her story here. (8) __See "The 12th Governess". (9) See "The 12th Governess"._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Your reviews yesterday made my day. Thank you, everybody! Here is another chapter - one of my favorites in this story._

_Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer (I keep forgetting that): See chapter 1._

**Edelweiss**

**Chapter III**

**---**

_**To live in hearts we leave behind**_

_**Is not to die.**_

_**Thomas Campbell, Hallowed Ground**_

**---**

_**Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it. **_

_**Michel de Montaigne**_

_**---**_

"At least it is not raining so heavily anymore," Maria said forlornly, as she closed the heavy iron gates of the von Trapp villa behind her. The heavy rain had not stopped completely – instead, it had turned into a light drizzle that at least allowed her to walk the distance to the bus stop in Aigen-bei-Salzburg without being soaked to the skin. With a heartfelt sigh, she stole a quick glance back to the house before she started walking down the road.

After living for scarcely a month in that place, a significant part of her already called it _home_. For Maria it was something very meaningful, because in all her life the only other place she dared to call home before had been Nonnberg Abbey. She was never at home with her uncle and aunt; they made it clear to her that she was nothing but a burden to them. To look after her had been their obligation, nothing more, and they never made any effort to hide that fact from her. Luckily, she had been accepted at Nonnberg when things became too much too bear, but it had hurt again when the Reverend Mother told her she had to leave for a while. Yet, it had been not only time, but the von Trapp family children, that healed her pain and she was just beginning to believe that she could find a home of her own, if she wanted to. Not only the children, but also, quite strangely, their fascinating, dark, brooding father…

It was absurd, she knew that.

She knew that she had no right to feel that way. It was _their_ home, _their_ family. The illustrious, notorious, sometimes eccentric, undoubtedly highborn von Trapps with all their fortune and glory… It was not _her_ family and she had no right to _adopt_ them like that, but that stubborn part of her did not agree at all. When, in occasions like these, she was reminded that the wonderful house and magnificent gardens, the lovely glass walled gazebo, the lake and privileged view of her beloved Untersberg, and the adorable seven children did not belong to her at all, that they were not her home… Oh well, it did hurt like hell, and it should not. She should have gotten used to that kind of feeling at that point in her life.

If she only had been asked to go to Innsbruck with the children…

She had never been to that part of Austria before – in fact, she had never been _anywhere_ before, except Vienna, where she had completed her studies at the Progressive School. Frau Schmidt found it rather strange that she had not been asked to go with the children, and told her that they were usually accompanied by a governess whenever they visited their grandparents in Innsbruck or Vienna. It didn't make any sense at all to Maria as well, because she believe that that was exactly why rich people hired governesses – to help them deal with cumbersome children when they became too annoying to bear, or when they wanted the little ones out of their way so that they could engage in their aristocratic activities such as horseback riding in the countryside or attending grand and glorious parties.

"_Captain's orders_." – It was the only explanation she got from the housekeeper when she questioned the woman. According to Frau Schmidt, due to the unpleasant experiences the Captain had with some of her eleven predecessors, it seemed that, this time, that the Whiteheads wished to enjoy the company of Agathe´s children without having any strangers nearby… And by _strangers_ they meant a governess that probably wouldn't last until the end of the summer.

After leaving the Captain in the ballroom, she had wandered aimlessly around the house for at least half an hour, desperately trying to find something to do. When she noticed that it had stopped raining, her spirits brightened again, and she got ready to leave, at the same time wondering why in heavens it was so important for the Captain to have her out of the house that day. For such a logical, rational man they claimed him to be, it was rather illogical that he had not sent her to Innsbruck with the children, but now he wanted her out of his sight. At the same time, she also knew that the Captain never did anything without a very strong motive. It was all about strategies and advanced planning with him. There had to be a reason other than not to have her interfering with the running of the household or doing chores that were not a part of her job.

She wondered if it had anything at all to do with those mysterious boxes that had arrived that morning from a certain Professor from Hallein...

The doors to the mirrored ballroom were still open when she passed it on her way out, and she could not resist taking a quick peek inside. There was no sign of Frau Schmidt or Frau Poppmeier, nor of any of the maids. Instead, Herr Schmidt was there with two helpers she had never met before, and they were furiously working, trying to put something together, while Franz surveyed everything with the usual haughty disdain. All the boxes were opened and its contents scattered all over the floor. She frowned, trying to guess what they were building. It looked almost like they were trying—and failing--to put together the pieces of a puzzle, because they were caught up in a heated debate about the exact manner to join two very simple pieces. Only one box remained untouched. She had no time to find out what it was, because the butler, coming from somewhere inside the room, suddenly but firmly shut the doors, nearly bruising her nose in the process.

"Oooohhh…" Maria moaned loudly, her hand scratching her nose. She had escaped being hit by the banging door only because of her quick reflexes. "That was rude!"

She heard the familiar low, ironic chuckle behind her, and turned around, holding her chin up.

"He didn't have to do that!" she protested indignantly, facing the Captain who was descending the stairs. "It was very… _ungentlemanly_ of him. All he had to do was ask me to leave."

"What are you doing?" he asked simply.

She decided to solemnly ignore his black look and make one last attempt to try to rescue herself from her apathy. While wandering around the house, she had discovered that Frau Poppmeier needed help with her sewing, since the Baroness needed a few of her dresses altered, and it would be so wonderful if she could do something useful again.

"Captain…" she began hesitantly. "Frau Poppmeier needs help with the Baroness's, and I was wondering if I…"

"Don't even think it!" was his curt, definite reply. His gaze held hers, daring her to defy him. "You are her to look after my children, not to fix Baroness Schraeder´s frocks."

"I know, but the children are not here, and I simply do not handle idleness well, Captain. It is driving me crazy," she admitted. "If _at least_ you'd let me go with them!"

"Yes, yes, I realize now that I _should_ have let you go with them." Maria's eyes widened – it was probably the first time she had heard him admitting a mistake. "Unfortunately that cannot be changed now, can it?" Maria straightened herself – was he _really_ sorry he did not send her away with the children?

His next words would prove her right.

"_Your_ idleness is driving _me_ insane as well, Fräulein. Evidently, we cannot turn back time, so I suggest you start learning how to deal with tedium at least once a week from now on because..."

"But…"

"… because I have no intention of becoming a slave driver."

"Oh, no, I didn't mean to imply that!"

"All my employees are entitled to their rest periods, and I see no reason for making an exception in _your_ case."

"Exactly!" she exclaimed loudly, as soon as she detected a slight flaw in his usually impeccable reasoning. "I am _not_ an employee." He rolled his eyes heavenward. "You said it so, and so did the Reverend Mother. It was all made very clear to me before I left. I am _on loan_ to you."

"Yes, so you are, but I still see no reason why…"

"You see," she dared to interrupt him, ignoring his incensed glance when she did so, "I am used to hard and constant work. I thought this was precisely one the reasons why I was hired…"

"… _loaned_," he corrected sardonically.

"The reason I was _loaned_ to you in the first place," she corrected herself. "If I could just…"

"No."

"I know, I know," she sighed. "If you want me out of your sight, I _will_ be out of your sight. I am going out." Still mumbling something about him being a slave driver anyway, she walked past him towards the door.

She planned to go the Abbey at first. She missed her friends dearly, and she missed the nuns most of all - even Sister Berthe who did nothing but scold her all the time. At least in Nonnberg she would not be banished from every room she walked into, and every little work she could possibly do would be welcome… well, at least _in theory_.

Walking towards the nearby village of Aigen, where she would be catching the bus, Maria had forgotten, however, that she was in _Salzburgerland_, and, in _Salzburgerland_, when it rains, it pours. She had barely reached the corner when the drizzle turned into a fiery storm again. With only her leather hat protecting her, she had no choice but to run back to the villa. Not wishing to be caught by the Captain in her wet clothes again, she ran straight to her bedroom to change into dry clothes quickly. Moaning and mumbling about her tedious misery, she opened the doors of her wardrobe with such force that for a second she feared she had broken them. It would not be completely unprecedented – it had happened before during some of her not so infrequent tantrums.

She missed the small object at first, a carved wooden box, lying in the floor of her wardrobe, half hidden beneath the folds of her hanging dresses. It wasn't until she reached for her drab grey gown that she finally found it. It was certainly not there the last time she opened the wardrobe, the previous evening.

After putting on her dress as fast as she possibly could, she picked up the box. Underneath it, she found was a short, handwritten note. It was from Liesl:

_Fräulein Maria,_

_I thought you would like to see with our own eyes where we came from, and how things were "before". It will also help you to understand why I was so concerned about what we talked the other day…_

_My mother to call this her "box of memories". She used to carry it with her wherever she went, but after she died, father had it locked in the attic, along with everything else that belonged to her. Please, do not let father or anyone else see it; otherwise we will all be in serious trouble. More than that, I don´t think he could bear it if he saw this around the house. You may leave it where you found it when you are done – I will return it to the attic as soon as we get back from Innsbruck._

_Liesl._

"Oh Liesl, you did not have to do this!" Maria exclaimed aloud.

She knew very well _why_ Liesl had done such a thing. The only time that the girl had asked to have a private talk with her, much to her amazement, had _not_ been to confide about secret encounters in the gazebo with a certain telegram deliverer. The Captain's eldest child was worried about the mere possibility that her father might not remain unmarried forever…

It had been one of those confusing moments for Maria; one of those occasions she regretted the fact that she had no previous experience as a governess. Liesl´s question, not unlike Marta's question about how babies were born, was also far from the realm of her own experiences.

"_Fräulein, what do you think? Do you think he is bringing the Baroness to meet us because he wants to _marry_ her?"_ Liesl had asked, wide-eyed. "_Because he does not have to marry because of us. Especially now when we have you_!"

"_You'll only have me until September, Liesl_, _remember?_" she had reminded her gently. She did not have the heart, however, to answer the girl's question.

Yes, it was clear to her that indeed _yes,_ the Captain was bringing the Viennese lady with him, the Baroness, to introduce her to his children because he wanted to make her his new wife. Frau Schmidt had hinted the possibility clearly enough in her very first night in the house, so she had little or no doubt about the nature of the Captain's plans.

"_If you ask me, the Captain's thinking very seriously of marrying the woman before the summer's over__…"_

She had even thanked the Lord because the housekeeper had helped her to see the exact nature of her mission there – to prepare the children for a new mother.

However, she could not be absolutely reveal that to Liesl, not until the girl knew how to deal with the possibility of another woman occupying her mother's place, if not in their hearts, at least in name only. If she did tell Liesl what she'd heard from Frau Schmidt, it would make her no different than the gossiping maids who were constantly speculating about the exact nature of the Captain's relationship with Baroness Schraeder.

On the other hand, _honesty_, Maria knew, was the most wonderful of all virtues. She still could be truthful to what she knew and was sure about. She could be forthright about her own uncertainty…

"_Oh Liesl, I am not sure what y__ou want me to say. I don´t know! I can't know. This is so far away from the world I live in – or at least the world I used to live in. I have no idea how these things work in families like yours! But I wouldn't worry about something that no one is sure about. It is not good to suffer in anticipation."_

"_But…"_

"_You should trust your father, darling. I am sure he would make no decision without considering you children first, least of all such an important one."_

"_Oh, I don´t know about that, Fräulein. He's been so distant since mother died!"_

In spite of Liesl´s last remark, Maria had felt reasonably satisfied with her answer, but she had a feeling that the matter would not simply end there.

Now, sitting on the floor, she run her fingers to the wood carved box again, and found the lid.

"_At least now I have something to occupy my time for the moment,_" she thought.

Surprisingly, she had no difficulty in opening it, which led her to believe that many times before; the children had removed the box from its hiding place in the attic just to look at the little treasures kept inside. Maybe not only the children, she wondered – maybe the Captain himself, from time to time, needed to look at those images again, even if only to convince himself – as the children were trying to convince _her_ – that everything that had happened in his past had been real. That she – _Agathe_ – had been real, and not only the ghost that now haunted his memory.

She opened the box slowly, almost reverently, and not without some hesitation. She wondered if the younger children knew about Liesl´s gesture, and she was fully conscious of the fact that with it they had placed their full and complete trust on her. It was a priceless gift, but also a perilous one, because it could lead her thoughts back to a very dangerous direction. Only moments before, she had been brooding about whether it was right or not, that with every passing day she was beginning to see the Trapp villa as her home and not merely as the place she worked. Oh, it would be risky to continue living that fantasy; she was clever enough to realize that. It would make leaving unbearably painful, even if she still had no doubt about what she wanted – to become a nun.

Also, maybe it was simply _wrong_. Maybe it was wrong of her to look inside that box filled with memories of happier times; maybe she was going to intrude into something that was just much too private. Maybe she absolutely had no right to do that. She would be in trouble like never before if he ever caught her! He would never, ever forgive her. Maria wondered if he was still powerful enough to call the fury of the Holy Inquisition upon her. She would be locked in a dungeon, burned at the stake…

At the same time, it had been _Liesl_ who asked her to look at what was there. _Liesl_, who was among the children probably the most affected by her mother's death at the moment, since she was at such an impressionable age. _Liesl_, who was apparently the only one who had the exact idea _why_ the Captain was bringing a woman from Vienna to visit them all… No, she had to help her. She was one of the children, and her task there was to do everything she could to help them. If the girl thought that the photographs would help _her_ to help _them_, then she had to look. There was no way she could turn her back on the children, even if doing so proved to be dangerous to her peace of mind.

Photographs were not the only contents of the box, she realized as soon as it was fully opened. There were also old letters, dried flowers, satin ribbons crystal beads, and a myriad of tiny objects that the children's mother had probably collected since she was a young girl, each little thing a reminder of a meaningful moment of her short life. Some of them she doubted that the children, and even the Captain, would know the meaning of.

On top of it all, the first picture revealed the first Baroness Agathe von Trapp to Maria's eyes for the first time.

Apparently, she was dressed for a costume ball, for she looked almost like the splitting image of Elisabeth of Bavaria - or Empress Sissi, as she appeared in what was probably her most well known portrait (1). It was one in which she were a beautiful ball gown and diamond stars in her hair so that it looked like it was sprinkled with Edelweiss. The Captain's wife did not look as young as the Empress, and Maria immediately concluded that the picture was taken not too long before she died.

"_Maybe when she wore that gown the last time there was a ball here. The last event before the ballroom was closed…"_ she imagined.

But there was another meaningful difference.

If she had expected a blinding beauty like Sissi was, she discovered that Agathe Whitehead von Trapp was _not_. It was a strange feeling, almost like a small shock to Maria. Somehow, she had always expected that a man as dashing as Captain von Trapp would have married a raving beauty. His current love interest the Baroness Schraeder was a stunning woman, so Maria never had any reason to believe his first wife had been anything else but that. The fact alone spoke volumes about that complex man's personality, in a way that was utterly vexing to Maria, to say the least.

"_Every time I think I will find a reason to dislike him, I discover a little something that makes me admire him even more… Why is that?_" she asked herself.

Although not exactly beautiful, the first Baroness von Trapp did have an interesting face that spoke of the kind woman everyone claimed her to be. No, she was not a beauty, but she was no _plain Jane_ either. The Baroness did have an attractive profile, the kind that would not be missed in a crowd, simply because it was too interesting to be missed. Her smiling eyes sparkled with vivid intelligence, and Maria instantly imagined that it was probably one of the things that made her so attractive to the Captain.

Oh, she could very well see a little bit of all the children in that face. Brigitta and Gretl, for instance, as far as she could tell, had the exact eye color, while the shape of her eyes was unmistakably Louisa's. The delicate nose was Liesl´s, and the mischievous glint in her eyes could only be Kurt's. Her stubborn chin reminded Maria of Friedrich. And Marta… Maria squinted, trying to find Marta in her mother's image, only to realize that she was, in fact, everywhere, and she was actually looking at a photograph of what the seven year old would look like when she grew up.

Maria wondered if she would find a picture of the Captain dressed as the Emperor, but soon dismissed the idea with a giggle. No, she could not picture him wearing any kind of costume, least of all to imitate the man who had decorated him. He certainly would find it most… disrespectful!

When her eyes dropped to the next photograph in the pile, she was so distracted that at first she failed to hear the first insistent knock on her bedroom's door. Agathe´s first photograph dropped from her hand, and her breath caught, as she realized she was looking at a very classic wedding picture. Maria only had eyes for the couple in the center – the other relatives surrounding them seemed to melt into the background. Since the first Baroness von Trapp was the one she was most curious about at the moment, it was to her that Maria's eyes went first.

"She was so tiny and delicate," she whispered, as it was the first thought that came to her head. It wasn't only that. She could almost swear that the woman she was looking at had never stumbled, not even a single time in her life. She had never dropped anything, broken anything, never crashed into other people. Least of all, she probably never had even _dreamed_ of doing anything so unladylike such as walking barefoot, whistling, climbing a tree, walking in the rain, or falling in a lake. Twice. Most of all, she certainly did not have a running mouth, so she never had the problem of saying the wrong thing at the worst possible time.

"She was a true princess," she sighed. "I wager this one could and would feel one single pea underneath dozens of thick mattresses…" (2)

Every little detail of her stance, as she stood proudly next to her husband, spoke of her highborn, privileged upbringing, from her soft, but confident smile as she looked straight at the camera, to her impeccable, straight posture. Her dress was the most typical bridal gown Maria could ever have imagined. Fit for a princess. A long veil made of exquisite lace fell from her head – Venetian lace, as Maria would learn later. Her head was crowned not by flowers, but by a tiara – most probably a precious family heirloom that would be worn, in the future, by one of the von Trapp girls on her wedding day. Her right hand, with a gleaming gold band, rested trustingly in her husband's arm…

She had seen the twin of that wedding band before, worn by the man standing proudly next to Agathe von Trapp. She had not dared to look at him yet, but is she closed her eyes, she would remember the thick gold band in his right band. Opening her eyes again, she focused her attention on the groom, taking in every detail of his appearance she possibly could.

Dressed in his military gala uniform, Georg von Trapp was not looking at the photographer like his bride was. He was gazing down at his new wife, and he had such an intense look in his eyes that Maria felt her throat tighten. Her reaction was strong enough to make her ask herself, months later, if that look in his eyes was what she had been afraid to see. Somehow, she had not been prepared for it. It was then – and only then – that Maria realize the full depth of that man's grief.

Love – at least the love between a man and a woman – was something she had never been exposed to. She had an inkling it existed based on the few novels she had read. Certainly whatever feelings her foster parents had for one another, love wasn't among them, because not once she had seen her uncle looking at her aunt the way the Captain was looking at his bride in that old photograph. For the briefest, maddest moment, she felt an inexplicable stab of jealousy of the woman who had lived briefly, but only enough to be deserving of such look.

She allowed the bride to melt into the background of the photograph with the other relatives, and looked at him.

"_So that is how he was_… _before he lost both the Navy and the woman he loved,_" Maria thought.

She did not have the time to dwell upon the details of the young Georg von Trapp´s appearance any longer, because she finally heard the knock. With it, she could almost swear came the sound of a muffled "_Fräulein!_", but she dismissed the idea, shaking her head. The only time the Captain had showed up at her bedroom door had been that first night when all his seven children were there, and they were all singing and throwing pillows at each other. That night, she had carelessly left the door open so that he did not even have to knock – he had just walked right in, appalled by the whole bedlam before his eyes. Of course the children had been the only reason he'd paid a visit to the servants' quarters, and since the children were not in the house, she saw no reason why he would do so again. No, it was most certainly her overactive imagination again, since it was him, the Captain, who was occupying her thoughts for the past few minutes while she had been engrossed by that wedding picture.

The "_Fräulein!_" may not have been real, but the knock certainly was. It sounded yet again, far more emphatic and commanding this time. It did not sound at all like Frau Schmidt's soft, gentle knock that she had learned to recognize over the past weeks. She had simply no idea who it was.

"Just a moment!" she said, closing the box and hastily throwing it inside her wardrobe again. "Wait!" she yelled angrily, after she heard the sound once again.

She yanked the bedroom door open, so quickly and suddenly that her startled visitor had to take a small step back.

"Yes?!............... _Oh!_"

Of all the people in the household, _he_ would be the last one she would expect. She looked at him in shock, feeling all the blood drain from her face.

"Oh?" he echoed, amusingly, with a half grin.

Instantly, she felt the blood rushing _back_ to her face, so that she went from deadly pale to beet red in a second. It was a most uncomfortable feeling, and yet, unfortunately, one she was getting used to by now.

She gulped.

The truth was that she was trying hard to get used to this Captain, and so far, it was proving to be not such an easy task. Oh, she could deal with the dark, angry one, the one with the foul moods easily – she had done so brilliantly days before. The Captain in the wedding photograph, and the one from the children's stories – that one she was yet to meet, so she could not absolutely be certain. But _this_ Captain standing before her was the most dangerous of them all. He was an amalgam of the other two. Unlike the others, he was the one with the unique talent of turning her mind into a blank canvas and making her forget such simple basic acts, such as _breathing_ and _thinking_.

"_Don't be silly, Maria,_" she told herself. "_They are all one and the same. There aren't three Captains, just one. And you have dealt with him just fine in many occasions before._"

"I thought I might find you here, praying to be rescued from the depths of your lassitude," he said playfully while she still looked at him, dumbfounded. "I was right, but you look exactly like my children whenever I catch them doing something wrong and they try to hide it and fail dismally."

She swallowed and, much to her horror, she felt her blush increase. She had been doing something wrong, hadn't she? At least it was something he would find unforgivable. Now she was afraid that the truth was written all over her face, but, oddly enough, he seemed to be unaware of it. He still started at her flushed self with that half smile in his handsome face.

"I just… I did not expect to see you _here _of all places… ehm… Captain," she said cautiously, choosing the words carefully so that she would not betray herself.

"Yes, I realize that is most unusual. Forgive me, Fräulein, I tried to find Frau Schmidt to summon you, but I was… uh… in a little bit of a hurry and…" He shook his head impatiently, and for a second, the angry Captain was back. Maria could almost read what he was thinking. Why would he have to explain why he had come to her room anyway? He was the lord and master of the house, he had every right to knock at her door if he felt necessary. He did not have to justify the fact to her.

"_Fräulein_?" he repeated, when he noticed that she had done nothing but to stare at him, mesmerized during his brief explanation.

If he had realized she was hardly listening to what he was saying, he was right. Thoughts were flying crazily in her mind, and Maria did not know what caused her more perplexity: his presence at her bedroom door, or the fact that the picture of him, young and proud in a Naval uniform and next to his wife, refused to leave her mind. Or the fact that he was there just after she had seen those photographs for the first time.

Oh, it was impossible not to compare.

The one in the photograph and the one standing in front of her right now – past and present. The loving husband and father, the almost mythical Navy captain she had heard tales about; and the bitter, grieving man she was trying so hard to understand in order to help the children. There was no sign of a single gray strand in the hair of the Captain in the photograph, but perhaps that was only the most perceivable difference. His body had changed little over the years, although obviously looked less youthful, and more… manly. Instead of the warm, loving gaze he was directing to his wife, his eyes now pierced hers, with an intensity she could not yet fully comprehend.

She soon realized that she too, was being subjected to a quick, but close scrutiny by him. He quickly scanned her appearance, from head to toe. Her dowdy dress and her hair, still damp from the rain… A few other incongruous thoughts ran through her head, as she dared to compare her appearance with the one of the aristocratic lady he had been married too.

"Hmmm… yes?"

He smirked at her

"Please, don´t tell me you fell in the lake again!"

----------------------------

_A/N: (1) __The portrait I have in mind is one painted by Franz Xavier Winterhalter. (2) This is a slight reference to the first story I ever published – "The Baroness and the Pìne Cone"._


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Another day, another chapter... there will be 11 in all. Thank you for all reviewing!_

_Disclaimer: See chapter 1._

**Edelweiss**

**Chapter I****V**

**---**

_**Let a woman in your life and your serenity is through,  
she'll redecorate your home, from the cellar to the dome,  
and then go on to the enthralling fun of overhauling you...  
**_

_**Let a woman in your life, and you're up against a wall,  
make a plan and you will find,  
that she has something else in mind,  
and so rather than do either you do something else  
that neither likes at all.**_

_**(…)**_

_**Let a woman in your life,  
and patience hasn't got a chance,  
she will beg you for advice, your reply will be concise,  
and she will listen very nicely, and then go out  
and do exactly what she wants!!!  
**_

_**You are a man of grace and polish,  
who never spoke above a hush,  
all at once you're using language that would make  
a sailor blush.**_

_**Let a woman in your life,  
and you're plunging in a knife,  
Let the others of my sex, tie the knot around their necks,  
I prefer a new edition of the Spanish Inquisition  
than to ever let a woman in my life.**_

_**(…)**_

_**Lerner & Loewe, I´m an ordinary man (excerpts - from My Fair Lady)**_

**---**

"_Please, __don't tell me you fell in the lake again!" _

The governess, who was staring at him in the most disturbing of manners, started to laugh.

"No Captain, it was the _rain_," she answered between giggles. "You _commanded_ me to go out, remember? You may find it hard to believe, but I was just following your orders."

"Mmmmm…"

Of course he remembered! How presumptuous of her! Did the cheeky little governess think that old age was already affecting his memory?

He had wanted _her_ away from the house, because the disturbing truth was that _he_ found it terribly difficult to stay away from _her_ while _she_ was in the house.

Of course he rather be caught death before telling that to her, but there was _something_ about her that drew him like a magnet.

Her unconventional ways and vaguely anarchistic ideas. Her daunting honesty and her complete inability to tell the simplest of lies. Her nearly pathological need to rebel against his authority. Her unusual manners. Her eccentric way of dealing with the children…

Her body, the way she looks in her governess clothes, wet or dry. Her eyes, always twinkling with mischief, constantly defying him. Her unmistakable sexual innocence, obvious to everyone but herself. Her voice, even as she sung romantic ballads in flawed Italian...

All of the above? None of the above?

No, he did not know what it was yet, but he certainly intended to find out. Before that, he needed a few hours without her presence, to calm his brain and return to his normal, _predictable_ state of mind. At least until the phrase "_she is just a governess_" started to ring true again. Had he succeeded in accomplishing that, he would not have to find himself where he was right now, standing just outside her bedroom, listening to her unrestrained, bubbling laughter while she wore that hideous convent attire _again_, which sight always had the power to affront him because it was so unflattering not to any woman, but to her most of all.

"_What the hell am I doing here?_"

Max had been absolutely right. He would gloat if he ever knew how _right_ he was, but Georg vowed that was a something the old sponge would never know. Yes, he was playing with fire, and what was worse was that he actually was _enjoying_ being burned. What else could explain that reckless behavior?

Never before he had personally gone to a governess's bedroom, or to any other servant's bedroom. Yet, since Fräulein Maria's arrival, he had gone to her room not once, but _twice_.

There had been nothing improper or out of the ordinary the first time he was there, since his children were with her and it was _the children_ he was looking after, not their governess! More exactly, he wanted to know what was about the bedlam going on upstairs when it was well past their bedtime – which, according to his orders, had to be strictly observed. It had been nothing out of the ordinary, he was just making sure that discipline, order and decorum reigned in the house, because without those three things the pain of loosing the woman he love would become simply too much for him to bear.

What he did not have to do, what he should not have done, was to go to her room himself today. It was simply _not done_. To make matters worse, this time the children were not even in the house and would not be able to provide him with the perfect excuse, if not the _only_ acceptable excuse. Their governess was not on duty, although she was constantly rebelling against the idea. He had no reason, whatsoever, to find himself outside her door. Luckily, no one had seen him there… No, _hopefully _no one had seen him there. Now that his mind had been made up to propose to Elsa as soon as he felt the children were ready to handle the news, the last thing he needed was any kind of gossip about him and the governess.

Reckless.

Completely, absolutely, inexcusably _reckless_.

The Fräulein´s reaction when she opened the door only made it all worse.

He had no idea of precisely what she was doing when he knocked, but he was certain of two things – she was breaking a rule, and it had to do with him. Not only had she taken a little too long to open the door, but her unusually expressive face told him all… Everything that he would never otherwise suspect, if she had managed to keep a straight, unexpressive _governess's_ face as she was supposed to.

But _no,_ she did not look like a governess, and she never, ever acted like one either. Before her, he had eleven good examples of how a governess should look and act, and before her arrival he thought that, as far as women usually employed to take charge of a child's upbringing and education, he had seen it all.

He ached to question her about what she was doing moments before his arrival. Considering the look in her face when she opened the door, he could not help but feeling curious about it. Oh, he was sure that it would take him less than five minutes to wring a full confession out of her – she was absolutely dismal at lying. He had absolutely no right to do that, of course. Yes, he was the Captain, she was employed by him, but he had no right whatsoever to pry into whatever she did in her private moments in the sanctuary of her bedroom.

He examined her quizzically, as intently as she was examining him – and was utterly distracted about whatever he intended to talk to her about.

Although her clothes were dry, her hair was damp, and the sight immediately reminded him of the lake; and _that_ triggered a wave of disturbing memories that he had been spending considerable time and energy trying to repress. What had she been doing? He had seen her going out, looking downright miserable, right after they had met outside the ballroom. Yes, the lake – she had probably taken another dive, to do something nonsensical such as rescue a puppy from drowning, only to burst into song after she succeeded.

The damp hair, however, and the hands demurely kept behind her back were hardly the problem.

She stared him with the most innocent _passion_ he had ever seen in a woman's eyes. She seemed to be completely lost in him, as she studied every detail of his face. At that moment, he had the most serious difficulty remembering his own name and title, let alone remembering the fact that she was just a governess. She kept looking at him, wonderingly. It was such a completely genuine, honest, unspoiled look, untainted by any kind of female artifice. Her eyes met his unashamedly, unafraid of how much she was revealing, simply because of the fact that she was oblivious to the fact that she was revealing him anything at all. In her fascinating mind, she probably thought she was merely looking at him, analyzing every detail of his appearance, just as he had caught her doing countless times before. This time, however, it was different. There was a new awareness in her eyes - not of the fact that she was pouring out her soul to him through that look, but an awareness of _him_.

He remembered that the first time Agathe looked at him in that particular manner. He wasted no time and gave her the first thorough kiss of her entire life. _Now he ached to do the same with his children's governess._ Yes, it was incongruous, it was absurd – she the children's governess, and he most certainly was _not_ in love with her. It was only physical desire that explained why he wanted to take her in his arms and carry her to her virginal bed until neither the bed or her were virginal anymore. Like he wanted breath in his lungs, he wanted to rip that awful gray thing she called a dress into shreds and reveal to his eyes and hands what the lake water had just hinted not long ago.

"_She is just a governess… Isn't she?"_

There was no denying the fact that he had been with his share women before, but he was no Don Juan. Among all the lovers he had in the past, he could count on the fingers of one hand how many times before he had physically wanted a woman like that, with an intensity that was almost too painful to bear. Worse, he had never felt the need to _deny_ such an attraction, to himself or anyone else. He never felt there was any need to repress it. With the exception of the one woman who later became his wife, all his lovers had been experienced, worldly women who knew exactly what they wanted and what he would be able to give them. None of them was a virgin by far, none of them was almost two decades younger than he was, and most certainly none of them was an aspiring nun! What made it even more dangerous was that – and not for the first time – her face clearly showed that she desired him just as much.

If he did not recover his senses immediately, he would have to dismiss the little Fräulein--not because of any of her many transgressions to his rules, but because he might – just might – become too tempted to resist her innocent allure. If he succumbed to that particular temptation, it would be the worst act he had ever committed in his life.

God, it was despicable.

_He_ was despicable.

In fact, he should not even dare to think about it. If he was any wise, he would put a stop to it _right now._

"Fräulein, would you come downstairs with me, please." His tone was biting, icy cold, and she reacted to it instantly.

"Is there anything wrong? The children…" she began, alarm showing in her face.

"The children are just fine and most probably having the time of their lives, being pampered beyond belief by their loving grandparents. No, it is not the children. It is me, I…"

"What is wrong with _you_, Captain?"

"Nothing is wrong with me, Fräulein," he answered irritably, although he hated the fact that it was such a dishonest answer.

"_O-ho, if you only knew what is wrong with me,_" he would tell himself later, reviving the scene. "_You would run back to your Abbey faster than your feet could possibly carry you. You would curse me for the rest of your life. I would be the very devil to you. You would lock yourself in the safety of your convent walls, never to wish to leave again… if you only knew what was wrong with me…_"

"I need your help for something. In the ballroom," he informed, clearing his throat and ignoring her look of surprise. "You were only too eager to find something for you to do, and now I have found something for you to do. So stop staring at me and…"

"Yes?" There was a sudden twinkle in her eyes, a sudden, yet perceptible, flicker of… of what? Hope? He shook his head. It was unbelievable that he was facing the one person in the world who hated inactivity as much as he did. The most unlikely person he could ever have imagined. She was so different from him in every aspect, and still had something in common with him, something that was part of the essence of his personality.

"Would you please follow me?"

She hesitated and tensed visibly. "Ehrm… Captain… would you mind if I met you downstairs in a few minutes? I have a little problem I need to… to solve before I can help you with anything. "

His eyes narrowed.

He had been right, she _was_ hiding something from him. And if he hadn't been so blind to it, if he hadn't been – momentarily, he hoped - so carried away by his own raging male hormones, he would have noticed that, at all times, she had kept her left hand behind her back. It was not until she made her request that he noticed it.

"I certainly would mind very much, Fräulein!", he bellowed, the surprise evident on her countenance. Whether it was his tone, or the fact that he refused her request, he didn't know. "Unless, of course, you are kind enough to tell me _what the devil you are hiding behind your back!_" He barked the last words, the old Captain back with full force again. He leaned towards her slightly, taking advantage of his imposing height. But he still remained on the threshold, and never stepped inside her room. If he did so, he would be doomed, for too many reasons.

It was the first time he ever saw her like that, completely taken aback. Curiously enough, it was not a sight he welcomed. Yes, he did enjoy taunting her, but mostly because she knew only too well how to defend herself, and because he found their verbal battles usually… _stimulating_. He dared to believe she thought just the same way about him. Most probably her cleverness was completely wasted in the Abbey, and the nuns most likely reacted with a sign of the cross or by giving her some kind of ridiculous penance whenever she tried to start an intelligent argument. No, to see her like that, at a loss for words, was not to his liking, but it told him what he wanted to know as soon as she opened the door to him – she _was_ doing something she was not supposed to do, and it had to do with _him_.

"Ahem… ehrm… ooohhhhh…. Nothing!" She could do little else than stutter the most obvious of all answers. Her right hand protectively joined her left one behind her back, and she took a few steps back, towards the inner safety of the room.

"_Smart move, Fräulein,_" he thought. She had to know he would not follow her inside.

"It is… it is…" She took a few more steps back, until she collided with her desk. Her eyes widened when that happened, and her hands felt the surface behind her back, as if to reassure herself of what she was actually touching.

"Yes?"

"A… a… a _recipe_!"

He raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Hah! A _recipe_. For what, may I ask?"

"For… for…" he could almost see her brain cells working furiously, even as she hastily tried to hide whatever she had in her hands beneath a book that lay on top of her desk. For just a splint of a second he thought he had seen what it was.

"_No, it cannot be,_" he thought. Well, it would certainly explain the way she had looked at him when she opened the door, but she certainly had no business looking at… No, it was impossible. Unless one of the children helped her with that. Still, why would she even want to look at such a thing? What would make her curious?

She was already speaking again.

"_Paprika Schnitzel_." She sighed, apparently relieved with her success in finding an appropriate answer – and in hiding her secret from his prying eyes. "The Mother Abbess is so fond of it, and the cook makes it so delicious that I simply had to ask for the recipe to bring back to the Abbey."

"_Paprika Schnitzel_," he echoed ironically, slowly, savoring the words because he _knew_ that the more he allowed her to talk, the more he had a chance to catch her.

"Yes. She loves it!"

"Fräulein, I have known the Reverend Mother longer than you have. Long enough to know that _she is allergic to paprika_!"

"Oooh!" she moaned, discouraged. "How could you possibly know that?"

"My _wife_ told me," he said. She nearly jumped when he mentioned Agathe, which immediately led him to believe again that what he _thought_ he had seen just before she hid it was not so absurd at all.

However, he was mistaken if he thought that the Fräulein would give up so quickly. Her hands free now, she walked towards him, so close that she almost invaded his personal space. Then she looked up, unflinching.

"You are bluffing," she said simply.

"O-ho, am I?"

Of course he was. In spite of the fact that his wife had indeed been very close to the Reverend Mother, he had no idea whatsoever about the nun's likes and dislikes.

"Hm mm."

"Do you care to tell me how you reach such a brilliant conclusion?"

She thought for just a moment. "It is a very personal kind of information, and I have lived here long enough to know that people like you are never personal about _anything_."

He flinched "People like…" he spoke almost to himself, but he let her continue her reasoning.

"As close as your dear wife may have been to the Reverend Mother, she would not have known that. I have lived in that convent for years, and I still don't even know what her favorite color is."

"Ah ha!" he exclaimed, triumphantly.

"What?" she was frowning at him again.

"Your running mouth getting into trouble again, I´m afraid," he said chuckling and shaking his head.

"I don't understand."

"You have given me too much unnecessary information. Were you a spy during the war, you would be caught before you even started."

"Oooh!" She obviously resented that, even though she was the farthest thing from a Mata Hari he could possibly imagine.

"You should have stopped after saying my wife wouldn't have known such a thing. But no, you added that you did not even know what the Mother Abbess's favorite color is… and yet you claim to know that _Paprika Schnitzel is her favorite dish_!"

There, he had succeeded in leading her straight to another logical trap again. And again, there it was, bewilderment etched in her face. She was, once more, at a loss for words. Once more, he did not like what he saw.

With a dismissive gesture, he decided to put an end to her misery at last.

"Forget it, Fräulein. I'll deal with this later, but make sure that I _will_ deal with it." Her sigh of relief was audible, as she nodded.

Before they left, however, he could not resist pushing her buttons once more.

"What did you do with the – uh – _recipe_?" he asked, gazing at her empty hands as she closed the bedroom door behind them.

"I just put it in a safe place."

"Yes…" was his pensive reply. "Some things are far too precious to be treated carelessly. Don't you agree, Fräulein?"

"Oh, I agree wholeheartedly, Captain. I really do," she replied, as they started walking down the hall.

He walked briskly, first down a couple of hallways, then down the stairs. He never looked back to see if she was indeed following him, even though she knew she was the kind to be distracted by something as ridiculous as a butterfly, and make a left turn when he had just made a right one. No, he never looked because he certainly heard her. He could always hear her around the house, wherever she was. It was always so easy to know where she was most of the time. Agathe, even Elsa – they walked with such grace and elegance that one could barely hear the sound of their shoes, even when there was no carpet to muffle it. The little Fräulein, on the other hand, stomped her feet on the ground rather noisily, and the sound of each step was not only caused by her sturdy boots. Right now, in fact, he could tell that she was having a hard time keeping up with him – not because he was walking too fast, as he usually did, but because he was not walking fast enough. Her eyes had widened impossibly when she had heard him utter the word "_ballroom_", and her burning curiosity was evident. There was that, and the obvious need to escape her bedroom and whatever she was hiding from him there, between the pages of that book on top of her desk…

Yes, probably she would have run downstairs if she had the chance. If he were not around, she would certainly attempt to slide down the banister, as he had witnessed her doing himself, the first time he had ever seen her at the Abbey (1).

"Do not go in there yet," he said abruptly, as they reached the closed doors to the ballroom and she ran ahead of him to open then. "There are a few things you need to know first."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Tell me, Fräulein Maria, is _carpentry_ among your many unusual talents?"

"Carpentry?" She frowned and hesitated a bit before she answered. "Well, I used to help with anything I could in the Abbey. The nuns used to do all the carpentry work themselves. We… I mean _they_ have their own woodshop."

"Yes, the Reverend Mother told me that."

"Are you sure you would trust me with carpentry tools next to you, Captain?" she provoked. "You know – hammers, nails, saws, chisels…"

"I am familiar with all the required tools, Fräulein."

"I am not sure you know what I mean, Captain. These things – they cut, they drill and they are… ehm… potentially dangerous."

"Why? Should I fear for my safety?" he asked lightheartedly, but her face remained dead serious. "Are you trying to tell me there is something I should know?"

"Oh no, nothing!" she replied hastily – quickly enough to convince him that she was not telling him the whole truth again. Months later she would admit that she had actually been banished from helping with carpentry work at the Abbey because somehow she had managed to nail herself to the carpentry bench. She had not realized the fact, and when she tried to get up, in her usual sudden manner, by jumping out of the bench and not merely _standing up_, she lost half of the skirt of her habit in the process.

"Now, here is what you need to know…"

That was how he started his lecture, pacing around her. He never looked to see if she was indeed following his explanations. He kept talking all the time, at light speed and without allowing her a single interruption, telling her everything that was happening and what he needed her to do. He intentionally did not give her time to say anything, and hopefully not to think about what he was saying… Because with all honesty, he doubted that he was being completely coherent at all, although he believed that he was able to give her a summarized version of what was going on.

He told her using the least possible amount of words that Herr Detweiler had heard about the children's show and contacted a certain Professor in the nearby town of Hallein about a stage and appropriate puppets. Sadly, the ninety year old Professor had retired, but he still had one of his masterpieces left. Max's charm had been crucial to convincing the old artisan to part from his prized work. That is, needless to say, not only Max's charm but also the von Trapp family name and assets.

The trouble was that assembling the puppet stage looked, at first, like a straightforward task.

It was not.

After one of the men he had hired to help had nearly damaged one of the key pieces, he decided to take matters in his own hands. It should not be so difficult after all, not for a man who was an expert in Naval Engineering. And he could probably have done it without her help, but he convinced himself that since it had been her idea in the first place, it was she who should be stuck with him while trying to put that puppet theatre together, instead of waltzing and singing in the streets of Salzburg.

There was a bewildered look in her face when he finished his tale about the old Professor and his marionette theatre. He did not know if it was because he had provided her with too much information in such an incredibly short time, or if she was frustrated because she did not have a chance to start a series of interminable questions. Nonetheless, not to give her time to think was a matter of necessity. He regretted going to her room to summon her, he regretted the fact that he had been completely unable to control that urge to be around her. His reasons for wanting her presence were weak, to say the least, and he did not wish to give her enough information so that she would realize that. The little governess might be an innocent, but she was clever – he had to acknowledge that.

Her sudden shyness around him was unusual as well, and highly unsettling. He was certain that her behavior had everything to do with whatever she had been hiding behind her back earlier. It wasn't until he finished his explanation that he realized that, although he had spoken in a manner not to allow her any interruptions, she had not even tried to stop him. Not a single "_Captain_" was heard from her. He had even expected she would poke at his shoulder to make him stop and turn around to listen to her. She did nothing of the sort. He wondered if that was because if she was worried that whatever mishap she had caused while doing carpentry work in the convent would repeat itself in his presence, but he did not believe it was the case.

Much to his relief, her silence was broken when he finally flung open the doors to the ballroom.

"My Lord, what have you _done_ to this place?!"

---

_A/N: (1) "The 12__th__ governess". _


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: My thanks to my inspiring muses in the fan fiction forum. Their help was invaluable in creating "our Captain":-)_

_Disclaimer: See chapter 1._

_---_

**Edelweiss**

**Chapter ****V**

**---**

_**"To put the world in order, we must first put the**__** nation in order; **_

_**to put the nation in order, we must put the family in order;**_

_**to put the family in order, we must cultivate our personal life; **_

_**and to cultivate our personal life, we must first set our hearts right.**_

_**  
**__**Confucius **_

**---**

"_My Lord, what have you done to this place?!"_

He had to concede that she was not entirely wrong in reacting like such, so that his first reaction was to chuckle. Her hands flew to her head as she surveyed the ballroom. It was in complete disorder, looking like it had just been invaded by some kind of Barbarian horde. He cringed briefly, thinking that Agathe would most probably be appalled if she had witnessed such a scene – the utter chaos and confusion reigning in what had always been her favorite room of the house. It would have broken her heart.

"_It was _precisely_ why I wanted this room to remain closed,_" the thought. Well, it was too late to turn back now. The Baroness had failed to convince him at first, but his children convinced him other wise. His children or… their governess? No, certainly not the governess. It was for the children and because of them that he was headed towards a radical change in his current lifestyle. Opening the doors to the ballroom was merely a first step towards a new life, in which he would soon be married to the elegant, glamorous Elsa von Schraeder and would never; ever again feel that excruciating angst tightening his chest whenever he remembered Agathe playing with the girls inside the ballroom in a rainy day.

The governess had _nothing_ to do with it.

Yet, the memory of his late wife was enough to make him feel a slight pang of completely unexpected… _guilt_?

That was the best way he could define that astonishing feeling, so alien to his universe, especially as far as women were concerned. There had never been the slightest hint of regret in any of the relationships he had experienced in his life, least of all with Agathe. Never before he had any reason to feel guilty about anything he had never done with a woman, in bed or out of it. His current liaison with the Baroness had not gone beyond the platonic stage, and maybe – just maybe – the idea of feeling guilty about anything never even entered his mind.

Why this now?

Could it be…?

_Oh no_.

_Not_ the governess!

What made it more puzzling was the fact that, as far as Fräulein Maria was concerned, he had done nothing at all. Ah, but he had _thought_ about it, he had thought long and hard – literally! So much that right now, if he were any wiser, he would mumble another silly excuse and run to his room for a badly needed icy cold shower.

Now, that was something he had not felt before – no, not the arousal, although the intensity of it was something he had rarely experienced before. It was thatunfathomable sense of_ guilt_ mingled with a good dose of… _fear_! Fear that he might damage something so perfectly unspoiled and pure. Nor merely damage it, but destroy it entirely. The fact that he had the power to do that to the young woman prancing around his ballroom was enough to make his blood run cold.

There was that, and there was also, of course, _Agathe…_

He knew, of course, that he was not the first widower in the history of the world who was paradoxically willing and reluctant to attach himself to a woman again after he lost his first wife. Characters like him were not entirely uncommon in the pages of both good and bad literature. They undoubtedly permeated the minds of so many women he had run across in the Viennese saloons in the later years, who naïvely hoped to catch his attention. They looked at him and saw Rochester, or that other fellow, Max the Winter, unaware that unlike his fictional counterparts, his first marriage had been extremely happy and that his Agathe was the closest thing to perfection in a woman that he had ever met until…

What did it have anything to do with Fräulein Maria?

It wasn't her he wanted or needed to be with, it was _Elsa_. All right, he conceded, his body may have ideas of its own, but his body had a mind which controlled it, and that rational part of him would simply not allow him to make an attachment of any kind to the governess of his children, no matter how alluring, how innocently charming she was.

For some reason, until today, he had always avoided thinking of his former wife and his current governess at the same time, but now both women invaded his thoughts. It is not that he was trying to compare them – no, far from it. After Agathe died, he had made love to two women only, the last time nearly two years ago. No, _made love_ was hardly the appropriate term for it. He simply took them to his bed to assuage a physical need, too look for some kind of desperate relief for his grief that they were more than willing to provide. That had been the only point of it. It had not worked; it only made him even more miserable and caused his anguish to reach unbelievable proportions. It was more or less at that point of his life that Elsa had _saved_ him, as she so unromantically put it.

Yet, it had not been guilt that had made him feel like a wretch after taking a lover. He never felt like he was betraying his wife memory because he was sleeping with other woman, but now he almost felt like he was, and he had not _done_ anything even in thought.

He looked at the governess, young and trim, walking around the room and surveying the mess, moaning incomprehensive words as she stepped on a tool, or tripped on a piece of wood. The sight brought him back from the past instantly.

Their surroundings, indeed, in a ghastly state. The ballroom was in a sorry state. In an orderly, impeccable home, it stood out as the anomaly that it was, and no wonder it had rendered the usually ever so talkative governess speechless.

The boxes were all open, and its contents were spread all over the floor. Straw that was used to protect what was inside the boxes was scattered all over the place, covering the beautiful floor made of priceless Italian marble almost completely. There were also tools carelessly scattered everywhere. Overcome with anger, he had dismissed the hired help so quickly that the poor souls did not even have the time to tidy up the place first.

"Fräulein…" He felt the need to justify himself to her. It had been him, after all, who had been so adamant in the beginning about the peace, tranquility and orderliness that should reign in every single room in his house.

Fräulein Maria, however, did not give him the chance.

"It is much, much _worse_ than before. I thought you wanted to clean it and make it presentable again, not ruin it. You are going in the wrong direction, Captain. The poor, dear Baroness will be absolutely appalled. I don't think she can have any parties in here now."

"The Baroness will survive just fine. I know what she told you about her own ideas…"

"She told me nothing."

"…. but I can assure you that this room was not open for parties," he informed, haughtily ignoring her interruption.

"Yes, but what _happened_ here?"

He decided to fight back. The mess had not been entirely his fault after all. None of it, even if he had allowed his anger to take over when he decided to send away the ones he had asked to help him. In fact, it was the sight of that utter mess that made him react and go looking for help, and, in desperation, look for _her_ before he could even think of looking for anyone else.

"_Her help, you fool. Not her company,_" his mind screamed.

"This should teach me a lesson, once and for all," he started abruptly. "That is what happens when you hire someone who is _not_ qualified for a job."

Her jaw dropped open, and she uttered a moan of indignation. His barb had clearly hit home with scorching precision. He did not think he had ever fired a torpedo with that same level of accuracy. After all, when he hired her, he knew she was far from qualified and he did so anyway, only because he trusted the Reverend Mother's judgment.

He continued his terse lecture. "You know what happened, Fräulein. _You_."

"Me?!" She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing. O-ho, he knew that stance quite well now. The little Fräulein was preparing for battle.

_Again._

The problem was that he exactly in the mood to battle with her, verbally or otherwise. Suddenly reminded of his strong physical reaction to her upstairs, he concluded that he was in the mood to do a number with things with her and to her, but fighting was not one of them. She, however, seemed to be in one of her highly argumentative moods. Well, it served him right – his previous comment about hiring unqualified help had been both untrue and unfair.

"How could it _possibly_ have been me this time, Captain?" she asked, innocently.

He scowled – more to himself than to her. No, he needed to control himself; he would _not_ allow her to get his temper riled again. Whenever his anger flared, he lost control and acted on impulse, and if he lost control when he was alone with her, things could become dangerous.

Naturally, she was not making things any easier for him.

"Well, that serves you right for not calling me here earlier. Certainly no matter how poor, how absolutely primitive and inadequate my carpentry skills may be, I am sure I would not have turned your beautiful ballroom into a… into a scene reminiscent of the…" her voice turned angrier and lower in pitch, all of a sudden, "… of the _Battle of Otranto_!"

He rolled his eyes.

At first he had to bite his tongue to keep from lecturing her on Naval history and inform her that the Battle of Otranto had been fought at sea, not on land. "_More like the Gallipoli front, Fräulein_" he wanted to suggest. When he was about to correct her unforgiving misconceptions about the great war, in which he had fought so bravely, when she started speaking again.

"In my defense when I went to ask for your permission to use this room to stage a puppet show with the children all you said was "_you do what you will, Fräulein",_" she mimicked him (1). "Well, I did as I pleased because you specifically told me so. I am doing nothing but to follow orders after all. _Your_ orders."

He cast her a deadly glance.

"Isn't _discipline_ the first rule in this house?"

He nearly choked on her observation, and disguised it by starting to pace around her, looking upwards, his hands behind his back, because they itched to reach for the boatswain whistle so that he could silence her in the best manner he knew how. Or he could do the other thing that he knew it would work just as well, and it would give him much more pleasure – to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.

She kept talking, blissfully unaware of how much she was tempting him.

"But you… _No,_ you had to make a spectacle of it, hadn't you?"

He stopped, suddenly realizing that he had been staring at her mouth – more precisely, her suddenly very kissable, pink lips. "I beg your pardon?"

"The marionettes! I was thinking about a soap box and old socks, not about a superb sample of… how did you call it earlier when you were explaining things to me?"

"_Superior Austrian craftsmanship_," he gritted between clenched teeth.

"Precisely!"

He counted to ten, and resumed his pacing.

"You wouldn't even raise your eyes from that _blasted_ newspaper you were reading when I went to talk to you about it."

His eyes widened, and he turned around to stare at her, open mouthed, and his exasperation with her completely forgotten, only to be replaced by…

_Amusement? _

Did the little postulant just utter a disguised blasphemy? He did his best repress a chuckle, but there was a little doubt that mirth was clearly etched in his face.

"Fräulein, did you just _curse_?"

Her face became beet red, betraying her answer entirely. "No, of course I did not _curse_! I am going to be a nun, Captain. Nuns do not and cannot… What?" she asked, as his laughter increased.

Like he needed to be reminded of what nuns were and were not allowed to do!

"You are still very much a human, aren't you? O-ho, yes you are and you did curse!" He grinned mischievously. "You just said something about my _blasted_ newspaper. I heard it quite clearly."

"I meant _detestable_." Her head lowered, she walked towards one of the boxes. "Do we have work to do or not? Because if we don't, I can think of a dozen other places where I could be more useful," was her resentful reply.

He was laughing again.

She was not.

It felt odd to him, to have their positions reversed. Now he was the one nearly doubling over with laughter, while she was the one looking like she wanted to throttle him. He could swear she was about to throw him a few other ugly words – at least she wanted to do. He also believed that it would not be the last time he would hear her curse like a sailor. Well, not quite like a sailor, but considering the fact that she was a future nun, hearing even the most innocent expletive coming from her lips was something entirely unexpected.

"Do you need my help or _not_?" she repeated her question, more forcefully this time.

"Oh, I certainly _need you_. That is, I certainly need your help," he quickly corrected his minor slip of tongue. "That is the entire purpose of you being here, isn't it?" he said, still making an effort to control his mirth.

She fired him a skeptical glance.

He had been right then. She had not believed a word of his absurd story about why he had decided to summon her. He decided to try a more direct approach, at least one closer to the truth.

"Fräulein, you have no idea of what you started when you suggested the puppets for the children. Marionettes are one of the most beloved of Salzburg's traditions, as I am sure you know rather well and Max – Herr Detweiler – is rather passionate about them. Unknowingly, you found your perfect ally. The man who built this stage – Max calls him _the Professor_ - he is ninety years old and the last living member of a family that started manufacturing marionettes nearly three hundred years ago. His attention to detail has rendered him nearly blind nowadays, so this –" he pointed to the open boxes scattered all over the floor "- this may look like Gallipoli after the fall, but it is the last anyone in Austria – or in the entire world, for all that matters - will see of his work. It is, in plain and simple words, _priceless_."

She was surveying the chaos around the room, and he wondered if she was even listening to his impassioned speech. If she was, she was probably wondering how was it possible that whatever she was looking at was _priceless_. What he thought she had tried to hide from him behind her back minutes before in her bedroom was infinitely more priceless and precious to him, and he was sure she knew that, and actually she could be thinking exactly about that. Because it was the look in her face that was priceless.

He continued to speak, in order not to allow his thoughts to wander in such dangerous direction again.

"Now, why in heavens Max has decided to put something like _that_ in the hands of my seven children is beyond my comprehension. And you…"

She misinterpreted what he was going to say. "Oh, Captain, do not concern yourself with that. I assure you, I am more than qualified to handle these. We… at the orphanage we used marionettes – they helped some children to express themselves when they were too traumatized to do so."

He raised his eyebrows, trying not to look too impressed. So the little governess had some experience in dealing with troubled children after all. Had she been a troubled child as well? He had to wonder about that too.

"That may be true in your case, Fräulein, but Max has taken quite a risk. You know my children, don't you?" He teased her.

"He loves them," she said simply.

"Yes. _So do I_!"

He was taken aback by his own sudden outburst. It was the second time she hinted that he did not his children enough, although she may have had her reasons to believe so the first time she said it.

She was quick to apologize this time.

"I am sorry, Captain, I never meant to imply you did not love your children." She was kneeling on the floor and fumbling with one of the boxes, and started pulling handfuls of straw from it. "It is just that you are their father, he is their uncle!"

"Evidently!"

"What I mean is that Herr Detweiler may pamper then all he wants to, he does not have any obligation to discipline them." She pulled something else from the box – a marionette this time, a little girl in a pink dress. "This is lovely!" she exclaimed, but soon continued. "If I had so many adorable nieces and nephews I would probably spoil them rotten, no matter what their father had to say about it… Is this a goat?" she asked frowning, showing another puppet to him.

He thought for a moment. "Wait… are you trying to tell me… what I think you are trying to tell me?"

"Pray, tell me what do you think I am trying to tell you, Captain?"

"That children need discipline from their parents."

"Of course they do!"

"Fräulein, I am _shocked _beyond belief," he said, but he was not scowling – he was smiling at her.

She lowered her eyes. "They do not need the kind of discipline you tried to impose on them before. Uniforms, whistles and… and everything else. But they need to know their limits, and there are better ways to do that than turning your house into a military academy."

"Mmmm… What are you doing?" he asked, suspiciously as her head practically disappeared inside one of the boxes.

"There must be a manual in here somewhere…"

"There isn't. The Professor, as far as I am aware of, always surveyed his work himself. He probably never saw the need of writing instructions of any kind."

"That is too bad, because they would certainly be helpful to those who admire his work and may wish to study it further… Here. I found it!" she cried out triumphantly. "I knew it had to be here somewhere."

"You can put it back where it belongs," he dismissed. "_We do not need it_."

"Of course we do. If you and yourqualified helpers had seen this before, you would not be stuck as you are."

"I am not, nor have I ever been – uh - _stuck_." She rolled her eyes and cast him a disbelieving glance. He decided to set the record straight, and continued proudly. "Fräulein, I should inform you that I built my own sailboat when I was seven." She did not look like she was impressed at all, and he continued. "I can dismantle a submarine, piece by piece, and put it together again. I think I can assemble a child's toy without ridiculing myself."

"This is clearlynot a submarine, is it? And it is not a child's toy either, it is a _fine example of Austrian craftsmanship_," she dared to defy him yet again.

"_Superior_ craftsmanship, Fräulein."

The governess, having finished her speech, with a triumphant smile, managed to put two very tricky pieces together – something he was actually working on when he decided to call for her help.

"How on earth did you do that?"

"Very simple, Captain. _Instructions_!"

-----------------------------------------

The worked together for the rest of the afternoon, and it wasn't until two hours later that the result of their mutual efforts began to resemble a large puppet theatre which clearly was too much big for any other room in the house. Yes, the ballroom had proved to be the right choice after all. Georg was also rather surprised to discover that asking the governess to help had not been a bad idea at all, in spite of his questionable motivation for having done so. He was forced to acknowledge the fact that as far as the work they were doing was concerned, she knew better than he did. After all, U-boats were made of metal, not wood!

As much as he tried to work in silence, Fräulein Maria was a chatterbox who wouldn't listen when he told her to be quiet. They talked – well, she did most of the talking, but mostly about the work they were doing. She would keep talking, apparently not caring if he was listening to her or not.

At some point, he caught her staring at him again.

"Fräulein – what is it this time?"

"I am sorry," she said, that lovely blush tinting her cheeks again. "It is just that… I would never imagine that you of all people would know how to handle carpentry tools," she said, pointing to the hammer in his hand. "As much as I try, I cannot picture Captain von Trapp working in a woodshop."

"I imagine you think that I never had hard day's work in all in my life, don't you?" he asked bitterly. It was one of the things that irritated him the most about being an aristocrat – people instantly assuming that he had never worked hard in his life. That was not something a man who loathed inactivity with a passion like to hear. There was no reason why she would think any differently than most of the rest of the world, but he did not quite like that she believed something like that. Not of him, at least.

She shrugged, as she admitted her preconceived ideas. "It is just something I would never imagine a _Baron_ would be able to do."

"Perhaps you are right about the Baron, but you are definitely wrong about the Captain." He threw the hammer he was using aside, and looked at her. "I commanded U-boats, Fräulein, not fancy cruise ships. There is quite a difference," he said, pointing a finger at her.

"Yes, I would imagine so, but what does it have to do with anything?"

"Survival skills."

"Mmm?"

"If you think that all a Captain does is to should orders and blow a boatswain whistle while everybody else simply rushes to obey his every command, then you are sadly mistaken."

"Oh no, but…"

"You have no idea of how life is inside a submarine. No, of course you don't, how could you even imagine. The conditions are far more primitive than one would expect. It is cramped and the air is usually fetid. Things that are supposed to work all the time sometimes do not work how they are supposed to, and that could mean the difference between returning home to your loved ones and sinking in the bottom of the ocean forever." She shuddered visibly at the not so romantic picture he painted. "Now how is _that_ for unromantic?" he added, just to provoke her, given their earlier conversation. "It is not only a matter of responsibility, it is a matter of principle. Any U-boat Captain worthy of his rank, Fräulein, is obliged to know a little bit of anything that may be helpful in keeping himself and his crew safe. No task is considered to be beneath him."

"Even things such as fencing and waltzing?" she asked candidly.

"Fencing and…" He only fired a cautionary glance before continuing. He opened his mind to say that fencing had saved his life once, when conditions had forced him and his crew to abandon their sinking ship and fight for survival with their own hands, until they were rescued from the godforsaken tiny Mediterranean island in which had been stranded. "When a submarine is out at sea, it is a unit of its own, all ties with land are severed, even with superior officers. While a Captain is still the Captain and his word is law, everybody depends on everybody else not only to survive, but to do so with as little discomfort as possible. Basic medical procedures, cooking, cleaning – no task is ever beneath anyone, no matter how low or high the rank is. I assure you, I am quite able to handle any kind of tool manufactured by man," he exaggerated.

She _still_ did not seem very much impressed, and it was annoying. Maybe he was far too used to women swooning when he started telling his tales about the sea. Even Elsa, usually so composed, could not hide her fascination when he began one of his stories. Fräulein Maria, on the other hand, acted like the hardships of life inside a submarine were nothing out of the ordinary, although she had not even wet her toes in sea water before in her life.

_Intriguing_.

He looked up at her, busy with the green velvet curtains surrounding the stage. There was a slight frown marring her brow as she fumbled with the fabric. She was not a particularly short woman, but she was obviously not tall enough for that particular task at hand, but she still insisted.

"_If she keeps this up, she will end up falling on her face… again!"_ he thought.

"Let me do that, Fräulein. You most certainly have the skill, but you lack the height for it."

With a sigh, she nodded, without any kind of protest, and changed places with him, coming to stand next to a small stepladder she had been using.

It all happened very fast after that.

Maybe he needed to be reminded that not only accidents did happen, but that Fräulein Maria had an unusual talent to attract them to her person at the most inconvenient times.

Maybe if he had been paying more attention to what was happening around him, instead of being momentarily paralyzed, staring down at her like a sailor who had been at sea for months without a woman to keep him company, while she gazed up at him with that same wondrous look in her face that had simply bewitched him when he went to her room earlier…

Maybe if he were not so carried away by the young governess, he would have seen that her left hand rested dangerously close to one of his feet.

Maybe she would have escaped unscathed, physically unharmed if not for the fact that in a moment of compete madness he decided to throw caution to the wind and stop torturing them both.

He dropped the hammer he had been using and started to step down. Not knowing exactly how it happened, but he felt he had stepped into something. When he realized what it was, it was already too late, and his full weight was resting in Fräulein Maria's hand.

---

_A/N: (1) __Ignorance is Bliss"._


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I forgot to mention before that there were several sources of inspiration and of information I used in this story. There are bits of dialogues in some chapters that I "borrowed" from the German movie "Die Trapp Familie". Georg von Trapp´s book, "To the last salute", and the fictional book "A Sailor of Austria", by John Biggins (which I highly recomment, btw) were also invaluable sources of information. "The World of the Trapp Family" by William Anderson and "The Sound of Music Companion" were also used._

_My warm thanks to the reviewers and, as always, to the inspiring muses from the fan fiction forward. Lovethisstuff was the one who suggested Maria´s impulsive gesture in this chapter..._

_Disclaimer: I don´t know any of the works above, or "The Sound of Music"._

**A Time for Peace**

**Chapter VI**

**---**

_**"That in the captain's but a choleric word,**__**  
**__**Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy."**_

_**  
**__**William Shakespeare**_

_**---  
**__**"Oh darkly, deeply, beautifully blue!"**_

_**Lord Byron**_

**---**

It was another memorable moment for Maria, one of the many unforgettable instants that took place during that magical summer in Aigen. It had been an accident, he never meant to hurt her at all - she would never believe it otherwise. What made it all so poignant to her was that not only his actions, but also the way he _looked_ reminded her of yet another moment earlier that same day.

One of the photographs she had found in Baroness von Trapp´s box instantly came to her memory, in crystal clear detail. It was not the wedding photograph, or the seven others of the family gathered for the christening of each new baby that was born. Nor a couple of pictures she found particularly difficult to look at, of the young couple by the sea, the Captain's arms wrapped around his wife, her belly swollen with his child. No, those had been he ones which had finally led her to fully understood the full extent of that man's grief – images that had confused her soul and that would bring unwanted dreams at night.

No, the photographs she had in mind now were a few of a Captain she or anyone else would most certainly never be able to meet again, not only because he had aged, but because he no longer had his Navy.

One of them in particular grabbed her attention. It looked like it was taken in one of those curious underwater boats he commanded. The sight was unimpressive at first – a little more than a long strap of dark metal floating on water, and she had even wondered how on earth how the men who appeared in the picture could even fit inside that thing. On the back of the picture she read "_rest day on board S.M.U. 14 in the Mediterranean_", written in a bold calligraphy that could only belong to Captain von Trapp (2).

The men who appeared in the picture were not what she would have expected to find in the ranks of the glorious Austrian Imperial Navy, at least not men who were commanded by a Knight of the Maria-Theresien Order. They were bedraggled and unkempt, their faces sporting several days´s growth of beard. A couple of them were even shirtless! But they all seemed to be having the time of their lives, because all of them were smiling. Most of them were lying on the deck, enjoying the sun, except for one in the back of the picture, who was sitting, his long legs leisurely stretched before him. Even in that old, black and white image, his blue eyes were a striking contrast to his face, tanned by the sun. That had been more than enough for Maria to recognize the Captain immediately.

Fortunately, for her peace of mind, he was _not_ shirtless, but he still looked more like a fisherman than a wealthy Austrian aristocrat. It appeared he worse some kind of working uniform, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The shirt was also opened at his neck, and his hair was all ruffled by the wind and he had clearly not shaved for several days. More than any other of the man who seemed to be enjoying that rare moment of peace, that young man seemed to be completely in his element and blissfully happy for that reason. That photograph was the only reason why she had believed when he told her he was no stranger to hard work and difficult living conditions.

"_How could he even wish for another life?_" Maria remembered thinking while she studied the photograph. "_He had the best of both worlds, the best of everything! He could be the aristocrat he was brought up to be, drinking his wine and waltzing in glittering Viennese ballrooms, and he was fed up with that, he could be the carefree sea captain of every boy's childhood dreams. He had the sea where he could be as wild as he could, where he could fight to save the world if he so wished… And whenever he was tired and weary of all that, he could always return to the woman he loved more than life itself, to his children. How could he _not_ be happy?"_

Maria looked down at his bent head, while he examined her bruised hand. Strangely, to her he looked closer to the young captain in the picture than she could ever believe possible – except for the serious expression in his face, of course, and the fact that he was quite obviously, not shirtless, not in shirtsleeves, but wearing the obligatory suit and tie. This after she had casually suggested that he should at least take the jacket off, because not only he did look uncomfortable but also it was hardly the appropriate attire for doing carpentry work. She got nothing but a scowl in response. Nevertheless, after spending the whole afternoon assembling the large marionette theatre had taken its tool in his usual well kept appearance. Oh well, the man did need another shave! A stubborn lock of dark brown hair fell over his forehead, giving him a… _rakish _look, to say the least. Like the captain in the picture, on board his submarine, enjoying the Mediterranean sun.

His concern for her well being was more than evident – he was pale, and there was a deep frown marring his brow. He was so focused on examining the hand he had crushed with his booted foot that he made no attempt to brush his hair back as perhaps he would have done under any other circumstances.

"_This _must_ be bothering him,_" she realized distractedly, considering his reaction to her earlier suggestion that he should remove his jacket. There was nothing she could do about the jacket, but his tousled hair was an entirely different matter.

She had never even imagined how Captain von Trapp would look like with his hair in disarray until she saw those photographs earlier. Impulsively, without a thought, without stopping to realize what she was actually _doing_, she reached out with her free hand and fixed it, brushing back the rebellious strands in place. It felt like warm, soft silk between her fingers, but she hardly realized it while everything was happening.

It was only when she heard his sudden intake of breath, only when his blue eyes met hers when his head snapped up. Only then she realized what she had just done and the utter, absolute, impropriety of it. When that finally happened, she was too mortified to do anything but to look at him astonished. The Captain, on the other hand, appeared to be equally shocked. He merely stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes so dark blue they were almost black, his expression unreadable.

"_Oh dear, dear, dear, _dear_!_" her mind screamed. Her face burned, and she wondered if that is what it would feel like, if she was ever thrown in the fires of purgatory – which she would probably would, after having done such a reckless thing.

"_Oh Lord, w__hat have I done?"_

She had _touched_ him, she had dared to take her hand and fix Captain Georg _Ritter_ von Trapp´s uncombed hair!

It was unthinkable – with all certainly, most probably even the Baroness, the woman he was in all likelihood going to marry would dare to commit a forward, inappropriate act. In all its simplicity, she had to acknowledge that it _was_ an intimate act, something that a wife would do to her husband or a mother to her child. Not a governess to her employer! In her defense, she later considered that maybe she had automatically reached for him because he too had taken her bruised hand without even blinking, but oh, that was an entirely different situation. He had done that because he had caused the terrible accident, and he had the knowledge and the means to verify if she was not hurt by his carelessness. She, on the other hand… had no idea why she had touched his hair, except that she hated the fact that he was most probably annoyed by it.

His hands, which had immediately stilled their gentle rubbing when she had carelessly touched him, began to tighten their hold on her, as if to assure that she would not flee, would not go anywhere until his mortified mind decided what he would say and do about her actions.

Maria closed her eyes, praying that she was having some kind of dream. It would be the strangest dream of her life, but still only a dream. But when she opened her eyes again, he was still there, looking at her, unflinching. His hands still held her tightly.

_How had it all __began, anyway?_

--------------------------------------------------

_Five minutes earlier…_

One moment she was looking up at him, while he fixed the curtains on top of the stage, something that she had not been able to do because it was too high for her. He looked down to say something to her, and the next thing she remember was the excruciating pain. Only the splint of a second had been necessary for Maria to realize that the feeling arising from her right hand resulted from the full weight of one of the Captain's feet, clad in heavy riding boots. She was more startled than anything else at first, which must have been the reason why she blurted out the first word that came to her mind…

Without a question, it was not a word she frequently used. As a matter of fact, she did not recall using ever since she first decided to live a life dedicated to a higher, spiritual purpose. It was an expletive she used to hear quite often from her uncle, but never knew _exactly_ what it mean – only that it was not a very nice word to say anywhere under the sun, least of all in the home of a distinguished and very aristocratic, naval hero. _Why_ had it come out of her lips in a moment like that, and in the presence of Captain von Trapp, of all people, was something beyond her comprehension. Never before had she crossed that line with her unceremonious ways, and she had done so twice in the past hour, although the first curse word she had uttered that day was infinitely more innocent than the one which had just came out of her lips.

The Captain had looked at her aghast, as she covered her mouth.

As a matter of fact, she _did_ recall the last time she had pronounced that particular word and could remember precisely _why_ she had not done so again ever since. Now, looking at the Captain blazing blue eyes, she wondered if he would make her kiss the entire ballroom floor or wash her mouth with soap too, but funnily enough he looked anything but mad at her. Vaguely amused, perhaps and unquestionably disconcerted. She had clearly rendered him perplexed – he probably did not know whether he should apologize himself for stepping into her hand or if he should give her a piece of his mind for saying such an awful word in his house.

He did neither.

Dropping the tool he had in his hand and had rushed to her side, grabbing her hand before she could react. As unexpected as his actions were to her, she still had the presence of mind to try to pull it away from him, but he held it, in a shockingly firm and warm grasp. For a few moments, they found themselves in a ridiculous childish game, him trying to examine her hand, while she desperately tried to get away.

"Will you stop wriggling and stay still," he had commanded finally in his angry sea captain's voice. "I need to access the damage."

"There is no harm done, Captain. None at all," she had said, first trying to ignore the dull throbbing pain, only to quickly decide that it was better if she focused on the pain rather than on everything else she was just beginning to feel because he was standing much too close to her and kneading her bruised hand.

"I am awfully sorry about this. It was terribly clumsy of me."

"There is no need for you to apologize. It was just an accident and as such, it was most probably my fault."

"The hell it was. If I had been paying attention to what I was doing instead of dreaming away like a bloody… never mind."

He examined her bruised hand with the care and attention of a professional. Maria remembered what he had just told her earlier, about having to learn skills in several areas of knowledge because his rank as a submarine commander demanded him so in order to guarantee his own survival and that of his men. He surely had been taught well, because he seemed to know exactly what to do, precisely what to check for as he felt her fingers one by one.

_His hands…_

One could tell a lot about a man by his hands only, she had heard people saying. Captain von Trapp´s hands did not feel like she would have expected they would. They were certainly not rough working man's hands, but they lacked the softness she would have expected in the hand of an aristocrat, even though, by his own admission, he was not a complete stranger to hard work. His hold was firm, yet gentle, his fingers slightly callused, but not unpleasantly so.

His touch was meant to be soothing, as he rubbed her hand to ease the pain. Nonetheless, it was doing something _funny_ to her senses. It could be because he was so disturbingly close that she could count each single grey strand in his hair. So close that she was surrounded by the scent of him, and she had never been so close enough to a man before to be aware of that effect. She could smell his expensive cologne, but that wasn't entirely new to her. There was something else, something infinitely more subtle and, paradoxically, at the same time too sophisticated and too earthy for her to grasp.

No other human being, male or female, had smelled like that to her before… She had not been prepared for the feeling that came with the realization of something as simple, as ordinary and at the same time as _intimate_ as his own personal scent. Shivers ran up and down her spine, and goose bumps traveled down her arms. She felt warm and flushed all over. Biting her lower lip, she fixed her gaze on the knot of his tie, briefly wondering that she had never seen anyone doing carpentry work so elegantly dressed before. However, that only made things even worse, because it brought her attention to his masculine neck, making her wonder why she was so fascinated by it all of a sudden.

"_It is only the pain,_" she thought.

It _had_ to be the pain, made worse by the fact that he was prodding her hand, checking for broken bones. She never considered herself to be squeamish, but the mere sight of her own blood was usually enough to make her queasy. There wasn't any blood now, but maybe the dull ache in her hand was having a similar effect on her. She really had no way of knowing because, in spite of her active lifestyle, she had rarely ever hurt herself like that.

She tried to think of something else, anything else, to divert her mind from such startling feelings, and that was when she recalled the photograph of him in his submarine. Next she saw the state of his hair and…

"_Oh dear, dear, dear, _dear! _Oh Lord, what have I done?_"

"Are you able to move your fingers?" he asked abruptly, glancing up at her briefly. His hold on her hand slackened, and she pulled it from him.

"Ahem… yes," she said, waking up from her reverie, wiggling her fingers. They were sore, but the movement did not make the pain increase. She could have cried out in relief, because he had not said anything about her reckless action of a moment ago.

"Good. That means that at least I probably did not break any of your bones," he grimaced. "I don't think you'll be able to play that guitar of yours for the next few days."

She gave a little shrug of the shoulders. "I think can live with it. The children will not be here for another two days, and I will not need the guitar to work with the marionettes."

The lock fell forward again. He quickly brushed it back, irritably, raking his hair with his fingers. In a second, he was back to being his ever so composed self, and she could not help but feeling a curious little pang of resentment when he looked visibly relieved because he was finally able to step away from her.

"Thank you," she murmured, resorting to extreme politeness to cover her embarrassment. He looked at her intensely. Maria braced herself.

"_Now! Now he is going to yell at me with all the power of his lungs for daring to touch him like that! I would not be surprised. In five minutes I gave him two more reasons to send me away… at least!_"

"What?" she asked bravely.

"O-ho, nothing! I was just wondering where and how on earth a future nun learned how to curse like a sailor," he grinned wickedly.

Definitely, it was not what she was expecting to hear! Although… by now she must have rendered the poor man in such state of bewilderment that he had no idea which of her many faults he was doing to address first. Apparently, he chose to begin with the one which was most shocking to him – the nun _cursing_. That suited her just fine, because _the other_ – the governess fixing the Baron´s hair - was infinitely more embarrassing to her.

"Oh, _hardly_ like a sailor, Captain," she defended herself, her strength renewed. Her right hand started to throb again, and she rubbed it with her left, as if to relieve the pain. "My… my uncle was never even close to the sea and he used that word all the time. I had no idea why it came out in a time like this. It was awful of me, and I do apologize."

It was odd, and she even wondered briefly if it was wrong of her to miss his soothing touch, relieving her pain.

"_It´s your own fault,_" she blamed herself. "_If you did not touch him like that, he would still be doing his best to make your hand feel better._"

Well, it would be certainly wrong and untoward of her to ask him to do it again, as she was tempted do. The old Maria might have done just that without a thought. The Maria she was five minutes ago would. But the Maria she was now… Perhaps it was then that she realized, for the first time, that she had changed ever since the moved to the Trapp villa. Was that what the Reverend Mother intended to happen?

Meanwhile the Captain refused to hear her apology.

"No, no, no! My full weight was on top of your hand, Fräulein and I am surprised that it appears no bones were broken. I would not blame you if you called the wrath of the seven seas upon me. I certainly would have said something even worse," he chuckled. Maria looked at him skeptically. Baron von Trapp uttering an explicit curse word – no, she would not believe that one unless she heard it with her own ears.

"You haven't the foggiest notion about what that word means, do you?" His mocking tone told her that he just could not seem to be able to resist teasing her. The man was exasperating most of the times!

She straightened and very seriously, gave him a simple answer. "I have a… erhm… a vague idea, yes."

"If you did, you would not be so mortified when my two youngest daughters started questioning you about the facts of life!" (2)

"_Oh no, not _again!" she thought. No, she would not allow him to lead her to that dangerous path ever again only to amuse himself at her expense.

He kept grinning at her. "I suppose you find this highly entertaining, don't you?" she asked irritably, while he still mocked her with his half smile.

His smile died, being replaced with an intriguing glint in his eyes.

"You are unquestionably a bewitching creature, Fräulein Maria," he mused.

"Hmmm?"

That was certainly now a word she had never heard anyone apply to her person. She was about to say that she too thought he was a fascinating creature himself, but dismissed the idea when she realized that it was probably something he was used to hearing every other day. Even Baroness Schraeder in all her sophistication sometimes looked at him like if he were some kind of Greek God who had to be worshiped at all times. Just now, while he was rubbing her hand – she could almost, just _almost_, understand _why_. No, the last thing she needed now was to commit another sin against his person!

"It is no wonder that the Mother Abbess considered you a breed apart from the other postulants… at least enough to be deserving of such special attention."

"You are wrong about that one, Captain. She did not treat me any differently from any other postulant. The only reason why she summoned me to her so often is because I got myself in trouble all the time. I was – erhm – _difficult_."

"No, Fräulein, you _are_ difficult, but that is not what I am talking about at the moment. What I know enough about life in a convent I learned from my late wife, who visited Nonnberg quite often."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, she was absolutely fascinated by the place."

"I am not surprised. Nonnberg _is_ a fascinating place, Captain," she said. "I daresay it beckoned me in the same way that the sea beckoned you." His blue eyes shone strangely when she said that, and once more she was reminded of the photographs of him and his friends at sea.

"_Then why don't you miss it with the same intensity as he misses the sea?_" the little devil inside whispered again, while the Captain resumed his talking.

"It must be, since someone as young and vibrant as you are is willing to spend the rest of your life inside those medieval walls."

It was her turn to glare at him, even though he had just paid her another compliment.

"It must be for the same reason why you chose to live hundreds of kilometers away from the ocean," she blurted. Then she flinched, bracing herself for the retort she knew was about to come. But it never came. He just gave a sad smile, and first looked down for a few moments, breaking eye contact with her. Next, he looked up – heavenward.

"_Touché_, Fräulein! You certainly know how to kick a man right where it hurts!"

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I was just…"

"Maybe not, but _you just could not stop yourself, could you?_" She shook her head in response. No, she could not. Just as she hadn´t been able to refrain from touching his hair earlier. "No, you were just defending yourself against my unfair attack, and quite effectively I should say. It just proves my point. No, say what you will, but what I learned about your Abbey was enough for me to know that Reverend Mothers simply does not speak to ordinary postulants every day unless the postulant is someone like _you_," he stressed the last word, pointing a finger at her.

It was true, she had to acknowledge that. None of the other postulants had ever been called to the Reverend Mother's study, and they had such a look of dismay on their faces whenever she was asked to go there. However, she had always believed it had more to do with her constantly getting herself into trouble, rather than her unique personality.

"But you… you were different. I think I am just beginning to understand why she sent you to me after all."

"Oooh?"

"I traveled all over the world, I encountered all kinds of people and never before in my life I was faced with someone quite like you. You are anything but dull, you never repeat yourself, and one never knows what sort of completely unexpected words will come out of your mouth. I find it rather intriguing, and refreshing at times."

It was another compliment – _sort of._ Three of them in less that one minute. No, four, if she counted the "_kick a man where it hurts_" comment. One compliment coming from him was rare enough, since he always seemed to take pleasure in finding fault with everything she did. But _four_! It was more than enough to make Maria feel obliged to say something back.

"Well, then I must say that you are a very interesting _man_…" She stopped, somehow feeling uncomfortable with the word she had used, in spite of the undeniable fact that he was very much a _man_. The fact that he had raised his eyebrows when she uttered the word was meaningless to her. It was odd, but she would not feel that strange applying that basic three letter word to any other man she could think about – not that there were many who had ever orbited her life – but to him. So, she quickly tried to correct herself. "I mean _person_… Sea captain. Captain." she finished.

He bowed slightly, with a sarcastic little smile, then pointed to her hand.

"You should soak that in some salted warm water, just in case. If that doesn't work, I'll ask Franz to drive you to Dr. Thürmann, our family physician in Salzburg. He should take good care of you."

"But there is no need of that. I am fine, I don't need a doctor."

"Here you are, darling! I was looking for you everywhere," Baroness Schraeder interrupted them, waltzing into the ballroom, carrying what looked like brown paper package with her. "You have no idea what I have to put up with at the moment… Oooh! There you are too." She stopped when she saw Maria.

There was a strange look in her face when she looked at Maria. It was not a hostile look, on the contrary. It was a _knowing_ look, full of mischief. Maria did not like it very much – she'd rather deal with the aristocratic lady's contempt than anything else at the moment. Silently, she murmured a prayer of thanks, because if the Baroness had arrived only a minute ago, she would see Captain von Trapp rubbing her hand and God knows what she might think of that! If she had arrived _two_ minutes ago, she would have caught her fixing his hair, and that would have been even worse.

"Good evening, Baroness Schraeder," Maria greeted her politely.

"Are you ill, Fräulein? You certainly look a little bit… _feverish_."

"It was just a silly little accident. I hurt my hand, that is all."

"Then why does she need a doctor, Georg?" She looked at him, and there was an accusatory tone in her question that Maria found rather odd.

"I don't," she said dismissively, ignoring her sore hand and trying to act busy by starting to pick up some tools lying around the floor. Everything and anything to keep her eyes from wandering to his disheveled hair again and from the thick lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead yet _again_.

"She may need one, because the accident was entirely my fault, I'm afraid," the Captain intervened, sounding just a little bit annoyed.

"How terrible! What happened?"

"I crushed her hand, that is what happened… You may leave that alone for now, Fräulein, I'll ask one of the maids to clean this mess." He turned to the Baroness when it became clear that Maria was not going to obey him.

"What can I do for you, Elsa?" He sat on the stage of the puppet theatre, stretching his legs before him. The rebellious lock transformed him, once more, in the young captain of the old photograph. Curiously, Maria noted that Baroness wasn't completely unaffected by the sight.

"Well, to begin with, you may tell me if _anyone_ is planning to have dinner in this house tonight." The Captain looked confused for a moment. "Do you have an idea what time it is? Poor darling Max is so hungry that he must be chewing his precious moustache right now!"

"I'm sorry, darling," he scratched his ear. "I think – uh – _I_ lost track of time." It was probably the first time Maria ever saw the Captain embarrassed. Funny, he did not even flinch when they were forced to discuss a few delicate aspects of his children's education only days ago, while her, as much as she hated to admit, could have died of embarrassment. Now he seemed to be completely taken aback by something a menial as _being late for dinner_.

"I can see that," she surveyed their work quickly. "It looks splendid! I am sure the Professor would be proud if he could see it." She walked to him and did just what Maria had not been able to stop herself from doing minutes before – she brushed his hair back. A quick stolen glance at Maria was the only sign that he was reminded by the earlier incident. "There – much better!"

"I promise I will look civilized again in time for dinner," he said with a little sardonic grin.

"Well, at least you accomplished _something_!" She gave him a mischievous smile. "It is nice to see you again in touch with your more _down-to-earth_ side, Georg. That is certainly one aspect of your personality our friends don't see very often these days. Oh my, you do look rather fetching, all sweaty and disheveled, don't you think, Fräulein?"

Maria looked at the Captain, who was back to looking as composed as possible to her. She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it again when he glared at her. His scowl turned inexplicably murderous when the Baroness, who had watched their exchanged gazes with interest, suggested to him:

"Yet, you may be right about one thing. You do look like you are in dire need of a cold shower!"

"Elsa," there was a clear warning in his voice.

The Baroness pouted. "In any case, if you talk to Dr. Thürmann, could you _please_ ask him to fill up a prescription for those miraculous tablets of his? I woke up with the most terrible migraine this morning, and _this_," she said, glaring at the brown package in her hands. "This certainly did not help."

"If you have a headache, a little fresh air and lots of sunshine may do wonders, Baroness," Maria suggested, while busy neatly rearranging the tools in a proper box. "I know that because I suffer from occasional migraines myself."

"Yes, fresh air and sunshine. Picnics, dips on the lake…" he added. "Yet, you are planning to lock yourself for life," the Captain observed.

"I'll be closer to my ocean than you are to yours, Captain," Maria fired back.

The Baroness looked at them absolutely appalled, but it was to Maria she spoke first.

"You are truly blessed, my dear. As much as I appreciate your kind advice, I'm afraid fresh air and sunshine would only make things worse for me, even if, in case any of you have noticed, it is still raining cats and dogs outside. No, I need something stronger and more effective than fresh air and sunshine, particularly after having seen what my soon to be former _couturier_ dared to send me from Vienna this morning!"

"What terrible sin has the poor man committed against you?" Georg asked her.

"Not against me, but against my excellent good taste and sense of fashion. I asked him to send me a sample of the fabric he was going to use to make the dress I would be wearing at Pauline Eberfeld´s wedding next weekend. You do remember _Pauline Eberfeld_, don't you Georg?"

"Of course I remember _Fräulein_ Eberfeld very well, Elsa! What the devil are you implying?"

"How could you not? Her mother was already trying to have your ring in the girl's finger when your mourning period was barely over – and that is putting it delicately. Inviting you for musical soirées in Vienna, where you would supposedly be dazzled with her musical talent at the piano… Not so subtle, if you ask me."

"She _is_ a very talented pianist!"

"Oh, Georg!" She laughed. "I believe your words that day were "_I do believe that Chopin himself couldn't have given a more elongated concert himself_" (3)," she mimicked him.

"I suppose she plays adequately for a _débutante_ with no intention of becoming a concertist," he shrugged. "It was her choice of music that bothered me, not her skills," he added pointedly. "I cannot find it in my heart to blame Baroness Eberfeld for wishing the best for their daughter. I only happened _not_ to be the best for Fräulein Eberfeld, as everybody realized soon enough – her most of all. Apparently, I scared the living daylights out of poor girl," he added with a low chuckle.

"Mmm… That you did! What makes you think that it made you less attractive to her? You scare the living daylights of every woman you meet. Am I wrong, Fräulein Maria?"

Maria's mouth opened and closed, and it was one of those fortunately rare moments when she had no idea what to say.

"Jealous, darling?" he taunted and winked at the Baroness. Maria turned her head to look at him for a moment, and he simply took her breath away, smiling flirtatiously at the elegant woman before him. It worked wonders, because the subject of his attentions was rendered absolutely speechless for a moment.

"_How silly can a woman be,"_ she thought distastefully. "_It does not surprise me that poor Fräulein Eberfeld would be too scared to move when he was around her, but the Baroness! Darling this, darling that, a little smile and she melts like ice in the tropics. It is almost embarrassing to watch! I think I would rather die before allowing any man to have that effect upon me!_"

"Now look at this and tell me if I am wrong!"

The Baroness, now fully recovered, ripped open the brown paper package. Maria gasped, when she saw the most delicate fabric, in the loveliest shade of blue she had ever seen. Her eyes widened and she stopped what she was doing just to look at the beautiful sheer material.

"Oh, it is lovely!" Maria exclaimed, before she could help herself.

The Captain seemed to agree with her opinion. "Indeed! I don't see anything wrong with it."

"Oh Georg, it is terrible. Can't you see it? This is absolutely the wrong shade for me. It is much too soft, too _innocent_. I would look like a vestal, not the sophisticated and glamorous widow that I am. The Reverend Mother of Nonnberg would be proud, but you know, it is not _her_ approval I am seeking!"

That earned Maria a little apologetic grin from the Captain, while the Baroness still talked, in melodramatic tones.

"Could you hold this for me for a moment, please, Fräulein," the Baroness said, discarding the blue fabric and practically throwing it in Maria's direction.

"Certainly." The fabric was so soft and sheer that it almost felt weightless in Maria's hands. Her imagination immediately began to draw frocks she could make with it. Long, flowing dresses, worthy of a princess. Never before in her life she had held anything so delicate in her hands.

"Anyway that was not the _worst_ that happened to me today, by far," the Baroness continued her tale.

"What was the worst, darling?"

"The worst is that there will _not_ be a wedding at all!" she exclaimed dramatically. "Can you even imagine it?"

That finally attracted the Captain's full attention, as he became very serious.

"What do you mean "_there will not be a wedding_"?"

"Exactly that. It was called off. _Cancelled_."

The information disconcerted him, it was clear to Maria. He looked incredulous, if not scandalized.

"It was all arranged, the invitations were sent nearly two months ago. I was planning to take the children with us to Vienna for a few days. _What happened?_"

Letting the soft blue fabric slide through her fingers, Maria wondered how and why would a society wedding be cancelled scarcely a week before it took place. Only one dramatic situation would come to her mind – either the bride or groom had run off to marry for love. It happened frequently enough in the novels she had read. She could not help but to sigh at the idea, counting her blessings, at the same time, because she would be forever safe from that kind of fate.

"Haven't you heard it yet? No, of course not, how could you. You have been locked in this room for _hours_ with… " she glanced at Maria, "with your children's governess."

"We weren't exactly locked, Elsa. What the hell happened to Fräulein Eberfeld´s wedding?"

"Her fiancée did not run away to marry a scullery maid, nor she suddenly decided to marry her butler instead, if that is what you are imagining… Although life has been so boring in Vienna lately that the city could use the little scandal," she said slyly. "Oooh, don't frown at me like that, Georg! I'm afraid it is much more serious. Baroness Eberfeld rang me in tears one hour ago. Unfortunately, Pauline's fiancée had the most ghastly riding accident you can possibly imagine."

"I see. That is unfortunate, but I can understand they'll have to postpone the wedding now. We should pay him a visit in the hospital. You know how much I value my friendship with the Eberfelds."

"Yes, I know you do. Even after the old Baroness did everything in her power to draw your eyes to her pretty young daughter after Agathe died!"

"Pauline Eberfeld is indeed an exquisitely beautiful young woman, but she could hardly even consider the idea of marrying me when she was so much in love with another man, could she? And I…" he stopped himself, although it was clear what he was about to say. "How is the groom? Recovering well, I hope."

"He's dead!"

Maria's head shot up, her eyes wide. The blue fabric slid from her hands.

"Dead?" the Captain echoed, incredulous.

"His neck was broken. The funeral is next Wednesday."

"That's just _awful_!" Maria blurted. "The poor man! And the girl he was about to marry! She must be heartbroken!" The Captain and the Baroness stared at her. It seemed that they had realized, only too late, that she was _still_ in the room. "Oh, I'm sorry. It is no business of mine, of course."

Now, that certainly proved her point, one of the beliefs she had always clung to: love stories, at least the true ones, _always_ ended tragically.

There were plenty of examples, and not only in literature, but the best, most realistic example she could think of – Captain von Trapp and Agathe Whitehead. Even when they such stories not end with the premature death of one of the spouses, the result was always sadness just the same, for there certainly would come the day when one of them would irrevocably die. That was one fate she did not want from her, and she prided herself in her wisdom for guiding her life towards something that would never ever leave her heartbroken, on the contrary. She also pitied those poor young women who succumbed to love, and wondered what caused them to leave their hearts so unprotected.

And to think that Frau Schmidt had predicted _chaos, disorder and confusion_ in her life when she read the cards for her! Maybe the reading would be better applied to poor Fräulein Eberfeld, who just had lost her fiancée a week before her wedding!

A man in _her_ future? Not in a million years!

"You do realize that we must go to Vienna at once to attend the funeral ceremonies," the Captain said. "I hardly knew the deceased, but the Eberfelds…"

"Yes, of course. If that is what you wish to do," the Baroness agreed. "At least I hope that this time Baroness Eberfeld waits until the poor young man is cold in his grave before she starts trying to find another husband for her daughter," she murmured.

"Fräulein," the Captain addressed her, seemingly annoyed by what the Baroness had just said.

"_Well, I think he will most certainly give her a piece of his mind later,_" she imagined. The Baroness seemed more worried about what color to wear than by the fact there had been a death in the family of a very dear friend of the Captain. Yet, it was just the way Baroness von Schraeder was, and it seemed that the Captain was fully aware of that. Well, he _had_ to – rumor had it that he was going to marry the woman!

Maria stood up, still clutching the blue fabric in her hands.

"Yes, Captain."

"Do you think you can take care of everything here while I am gone? I think we might have to leave before the children are back from Innsbruck, but we'll certainly be back before the weekend."

"Of course, Captain."

"Oh, don't worry on her account, Georg. She handled everything just fine the last time you left, didn't she?" The Captain scowled. Unexpectedly, she suggested to Maria, pointing to the blue material. "Why don't you keep that for you, Fräulein?"

"What?"

"I am not going to use it, and it would be a terrible waste just to throw it away." She looked at the Captain then. "Can you imagine? I was hoping to reappear in Vienna in vibrant royal blue, and now I must call my housekeeper and ask her to search my old trunks for my widow's weeds again! I look so ghastly in black."

"You look absolutely adorable in any color, Elsa," the Captain said gallantly and Maria rolled her eyes. His tone sharpened slightly when he spoke to her again, so she wondered if he had seen her reaction. "Yes, Fräulein, do keep the blue material," he agreed, much to her bewilderment.

"I don't think I can accept it, Baroness. Captain… It is just too valuable!"

"That little thing? No, not really, my dear. It is just a sample, I don't think there is even enough to make a decent dress out of it."

"Well, thank you then. I'll see what I can do."

"I am sure you'll accomplish something. You seem to be so… uniquely talented. God knows you need better dresses to wear to dinner every night," she finished, measuring Maria from head to toe with a critical look.

Maria did not mind the criticism at all. In fact she barely heard it, for she was already on her way, clutching the precious gift to her bosom.

"_Brown paper packages tied up with strings…_" (4), she sang in her mind.

And smiled.

---

_A/N: (1) Intermezzo I – Ignorance is Bliss.__ (2) The description was inspired from a picture I found in Georg von Trapp´s book, "To the last salute". (3) The 12__th__ Governess. (4) Rodgers & Hammerstein, "My Favourite Things"._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: MaraSil, your reviews are wonderful - thank you! Yes, that was my version of the "blue dress theory":-) _

_Disclaimers and acknowledgements: See chapter 6._

**A Time for Peace**

**Chapter VII**

**_---_**

**_My eyes make pictures, when they are shut._**

_**  
**_**_Samuel Taylor Coleridge, A Day Dream_**

**_---_**

**_I had a dream, which was not all a dream._**

_**  
**_**_Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron), Darkness_**

**_---_**

**_"Come to me, darling; I'm lonely without thee;_**

**_Daytime and nighttime I'm dreaming about thee."_**

_**  
**_**_Joseph Brenan (Brennan), The Exile To His Wife_**

**_---_**

"_You are bound to feel a little _strange_ at first, Maria. You should not let that disturb you too much."_

Those had been Sister Margaretta´s words to her before she left Nonnberg to live with the von Trapp family. Maria remembered everything what the gentle nun had said very clearly now, almost as if she had heard them only hours and not weeks ago.

"_You know what the Reverend Mother is doing__ and why, don't you? These few months away from us will help you to make up your mind about your future here… or anywhere else."_

"_But my mind is made up, Sister Margaretta! It truly, really is."_

"_Maria, you must find out if your mind is made up because _you_ decided it is made up, or if it is because your vocation is indeed there deep in your heart. No, you must find out, you must be given the right to choose, in spite of what you may believe right now."_

She had come to take care of seven children, and ultimately she had come to find an answer. That she could very well understand now, although if there was _another_ answer for her out there, other the one she knew already, she was yet to find it. What she did not quite expect was to feel so strange, even if she had been warned that was likely to happen.

"_You are bound to feel strange at first, Maria…_"

_Strange_ could hardly begin to describe what she was feeling.

She had arrived from a quick visit to the Abbey only moments before, and had rushed to her room to change into her new blue dress in time for dinner, which would be followed by their presentation with the marionettes. She knew the Captain was already home after having seen his car in the driveway, but still, the sound of his deep, baritone voice coming from somewhere downstairs, as she was headed to her bedroom, was enough to make her heart jump.

"_It is only anticipation,_" she thought, clutching her hands to her stomach.

The children were overly excited to show their father the progress with the marionettes, and so was she. Pride did not even begin to describe what she felt when they rehearsed the little song they were going to perform earlier that morning. They had worked relentlessly ever since the moment they arrived from Innsbruck and it all came together so beautifully. She wanted their father to be just as impressed as she was with the children's progress. What made her nervous about their presentation was the fact that this time, although it was the children she wanted everybody to see, inevitably it would be her who would be in the spotlight.

"_I have only myself to blame. It was _my_ idea to use the puppets after all,_" she concluded.

The children insisted that she too should sing with them. At first she refused, because it was them she wanted the Captain to hear, not her. Besides, the last time she had tried to sing a solo in the nun's choir had been disastrous, not because of her voice, but because of her unique talent to attract trouble even in situations where little or nothing could possibly go wrong. However, when she realized that it was virtually impossible for all the children to sing and move the puppets at the same time, she decided that she must do something about it, so that things not end in disaster. As a result, she would be singing most of the song by herself, with the children accompanying her in a choir. Oh, she could only she could manage that, without causing the stage to fall apart, or falling off on her face.

"_I think they call it stage fright. Yes, _that_ is what it is!_"

The fact was that she loved singing more than anything, but she was not exactly used to have an audience, at least when performing a solo. She could deal just fine with the mountains and the green meadows listening to her, God and His angels listening to her from Heaven. She never had any problem singing in the nun's choir, for the small crowd who attended the masses at the Nonnberg chapel. She would not mind the Baroness, Herr Detweiler or anyone else listening to her singing, but _him_ on the other hand… Yes, the Captain, who was used to listening to the best sopranos in the world in the _Wierner Staatsoper,_ would be critically analyzing her voice.

No, she should not think about that now. It was much too enervating, and it would increase her restlessness.

"It is stage fright, Maria. And you are also much too worried about Theresa," she spoke to herself. "You should not expect to feel your normal self considering all that is happening to one of your dearest friends!"

Her postulant friend Theresa's sudden illness, combined with the strong impression left on her by the von Trapp family photographs were playing havoc with her already confused soul, forcing her to think about the reason why the Reverend Mother had sent her away.

"Don't be silly, you are _not_ like Theresa at all," she spoke aloud, throwing her wimple on the bed. Theresa had never wanted to be a nun in the first place so that, in a way, she had asked for the trouble she found herself in now. Yet, the fact that the Reverend Mother had sent _her,_ and not Theresa, to care for the von Trapp children was never entirely clear to her.

No, not true, she realized. Her friend came from a highborn family; she deserved something better than merely becoming a governess.

"_No, she would probably have a fit if the Reverend Mother as much as suggested that to her_," Maria thought amusedly, while shedding her habit.

There was also something else to be considered.

Apparently, the Mother Abbess wanted her to experience just a little bit of life in the outside world, so that she would at least know exactly what sacrifices involved if she indeed decided to become a nun in the end. Unlike Maria, Theresa already knew more than enough about the life she would be giving up, so when the moment came to make the final choice she had panicked because _it was not what she wanted_. Theresa would not need to discover for herself if she had faith enough to face a life in which mystical devotion took the place of everything else – including the love for a man – because she already knew she had not. Maria was absolutely certain that she had, but her firm conviction had been violently – although hopefully momentarily - shaken when she saw the entire content of that box of photographs for the first time.

She stared at herself in the mirror, wearing her slip and a chemise. The young woman who looked back to her was almost an unknown, with flushed face and her short hair in complete disarray. She did look slightly different from the country ragamuffin she was when she left the Abbey, as if there were things about herself, about her appearance, that she had never been aware before. But she was still such a startling contrast to the Baroness von Trapp she had seen in the photographs… Perfectly dressed, not even a sign of a freckle, not even one hair out of place, looking regal even when she was nine months pregnant.

Would a man ever look at her the way the Captain looked at his wife in those pictures?

It was something that never before she had felt inclined to think about.

She had known nothing but kindness since she had entered the convent. She had always been properly fed, clothed and educated, but there was always some distance between her and the nuns. Even Sister Margaretta, as gentle as she was, had been appalled when Maria hugged her impulsively one day. Oddly enough, Maria never rebelled against this, as she did with so many other things, simply because, to her, it was a part of it the life she was about to embrace. It did not keep her, however, from wondering, more than often, how it would feel like to be simply _spoiled_.

But this was something else entirely.

She dared to imagine what it would be like if there were someone out there who would look at her with such passionate love in his eyes, but when she closed her eyes, it was not the face of some unknown man whose image she hoped to create to serve her purpose.

It was the Captain she saw, with crystal clarity.

Her eyes shot open.

"Oh, no, no, no! Don't you _dare_!" she exclaimed. _"That is not what you want, Maria, and you know it. A family. Children of your own! That is the kind of need that is shaking your faith not… not that!"_

Nonetheless, almost as soon as she reached that conclusion, she could almost hear Sister Margaretta´s voice in her ear again.

"_Oh, but you cannot make an omelette without breaking any eggs, my child!_"

The old saying was, indeed very much appropriate.

A woman couldn't have a child unless she gave herself to a man – Maria was not naïve enough so that she did not know that. She had even screamed how _knowledgeable_ she was about the subject, at least in theory, to the man now haunting her thoughts (1). Still, her innocence was rather appalled when she imagined being in the arms of someone like… someone like _him_...

Her skin grew warm as she tried to suppress the image. In her entire life she had _never_ met anyone who made her have thoughts of such an unlikely, carnal nature, and she almost gave in to the urge to cross herself, asking forgiveness for her impure thoughts.

"Ooooohhhhhhh!"

With a grunt, she shook off the unwanted reveries and put on her new blue dress.

"_It was amazing how tension because of something so silly can affect one's sanity_," she mused, while fumbling with the fasting of her new dress. All because of seven children, marionettes and a simple folk song called "_The Lonely Goatherd_", which would be accompanied by a good, healthy dose of true Tyrolean yodeling! Everything else was blown out of proportion because of her unusual attack of stage fright, even her friend Theresa's predicament.

She looked at herself in the mirror again, now wearing the blue dress for the first time. Quickly, she rearranged her hair as back as she could, moaning in distaste because, as short as it was, it still appeared to have a mind of its own. The dress was unlike any other she had worn in her life, but this time the girl who stared back at her was not an unknown.

"_At least I look like myself again_," she thought, relieved. There was nothing like new clothes to restore a woman's inner confidence – it was something that was true for whether you were a nun or a Baroness! She smiled at the thought.

In the end, she was quite proud of her blue dress, even though she had some help from Frau Poppmeier for some of the intricate details she added to the neck and waistline. The Baroness had said that it was doubtful that she would be able to accomplish much with so little fabric, and she hoped she had proved the woman wrong. Of course it was nothing like the sophisticated frocks the women in the Captain's social circle usually wore, but it was simple and uncomplicated. She loved it for that reason especially, added to the fact that the flowing skirts and sleeves appealed to her feminine soul.

There, she was ready. She knew the children were already dressed as well, so now she had a few moments to herself, to catch her breath before she faced him again.

Maybe a stroll by the lake in the moonlight before dinner would be nice…

-----------------------------------

Captain Georg von Trapp spent five days in Vienna with Elsa von Schraeder, with Max Detweiler tagging along as a chaperon. There had been no time to book his customary room at the Sacher and he had no choice but to accept Elsa's offer to stay in her town house. Max, of course, could not have been more pleased, although Georg would very much have preferred another arrangement, for the sake of propriety, and the reputation of the woman he intended to marry. The problem was that, sometimes, he did not quite trust Max Detweiler´s efficiency as a chaperon.

When he left Salzburg, he was a man with a purpose. He had a target in mind, and he was dead set on hitting it with scorching precision. The purpose was one that had been in his mind the moment Elsa had surprised him and the governess in the ballroom.

He had to forget her. He _must_ forget her.

He had to do everything and anything in his power to drive her away from his thoughts before things became impossible to control.

That was the only idea in his mind as he traveled his friends to Vienna. He insisted upon driving himself, although they could easily take a chauffeur with them. Naturally he could not sail to Vienna, and since that was a practical impossibility, driving was the next best thing. It helped him to think, to organize some of his chaotic ideas, to put things into perspective and start once again focusing in what was really important. When he was half way there, he realized that yes, he _could_ succeed this time.

_Discipline._

The key to it was _discipline_, as it always had been. It was what had saved his life in crucial moments, and it should not fail him now.

At first, it worked wonders. There were few times in his life when he was so dammed proud of himself as he was in those few days in Vienna. It showed in his stance, in the cockish, self satisfied grin he sported most of the times while he was there.

He had used all of his strict military training _not_ to think of his children's governess. He succeeded brilliantly during the day. By the time he went to bed at night, he was either too much under the effects of Elsa's outrageously expensive champagne or too tired to remember what he had dreamed about when he slept. It hardly mattered anyway – in his waking moments, he was, once more, fully himself. The simple fact was that he had _won;_ he had fully recovered his control of his raging feelings.

O-ho, it felt _good_ to have won again. To feel that unique taste of victory after a hard battle… To be the master of himself, almost free of the particularly painful memories – because Elsa was there all the time to banish most of them, and completely…. Most importantly, utterly free from the other, more recent memories as well that were driving him insane with pure, undiluted _lust_ and… and what? Something else that he would not even consider, not even _dare_ to think about ever again, for as long as he lived. With it, gone was the particularly painful state of arousal that gripped him from the moment when _she_ touched his hair in the ballroom.

Yes, for five days he had actually _dared_ to think of himself as _cured _of his growing attraction for the little Fräulein as he could possibly be.

Granted, the reason for that unscheduled trip to Vienna was to attend a funeral. That one gloomy occasion brought its share of unwanted memories with it, as he watched Pauline Eberfeld crying next to her beloved's coffin. He knew only too well what was in store for the poor girl, even if she had several advantages over him. She was young, she had her loving parents to support her, and there were no children who would remind her of the one she had lost whenever she looked at them.

However, when it was over, after he had paid his respects to the Eberfelds and to the deceased's family, he still had two days left, during which he was ready to take advantage of everything else the city had to offer, in all of its elegant decadence. He acted the flamboyant aristocrat he knew Elsa and all of the Viennese high society expected him to be. With her in his arms, he waltzed to Strauss; he drank indecent amounts of champagne. All those bores he detested gossiping with suddenly appeared to him not so detestable at all. He was the veritable life and soul of both glamorous parties he had been dragged to.

Somehow, he was back to being the man he had been so briefly, in the first few weeks after Elsa had rescued him from the pain of a lost love. This was so true that, in one of their moments of privacy, he nearly succumbed to her charms. If not for the untimely arrival of a Max, he would have thrown caution to the wind and put an end to his growing sexual frustration - the only thing that could logically explain that obsession with that mere wisp of a governess nearly to decades younger that he was, and coming from a world that could not have been more different than the world he had been brought up in.

All that was, fortunately, in the past. When he returned, she would once again be simply the governess, and he might even just send her back to that convent of hers, just to prove to himself that he could do it without the slightest pang of hesitation or remorse, simply because he was the master of the house.

So he believed…

All of his beliefs were entirely shattered the moment he saw her again in that accursed blue dress, made even bluer by the moonlight. There, standing by the lake, gazing dreamingly at the quiet waters…

He immediately recognized the fabric, as the one that Elsa had given to her the day before they left for Vienna. The dress, however, was not what he would expect someone would make with it. It was very simple and clean cut, and it was as demure as every other piece of clothing he had seen her in ever since her arrival, but still there was something about it that made it impossible for him to look away. Maybe it was the color blue. Maybe it was just… her.

No, it could not be her. It was the color; it was the discreet transparency of her sleeves and her skirts, made obvious only when she moved against the moonlight.

No, it was the dress, not the girl wearing it.

But still…

"_She might have ruined me for any other woman_," was his first thought when he saw her again, and it came to him with such force that he was surprised he had not actually said the words aloud. He immediately realized that good old Max had unknowingly saving him from embarrassing himself if he had taken Elsa to bed that evening in Vienna. It would have been a disaster, one that would certainly put an end to his plans about marrying the right woman to help him raise his children.

_The right woman…_

She was certainly not the young governess, who was now standing so close that all he could to was to take a deeper breath, and he would already be touching her. His hand would lightly brush against the folds of the skirt of her light blue dress if he only raised a finger. Yet, she was still completely unaware of him. She looked at the still waters of the lake as if hypnotized.

He closed his eyes, silently praying that when he opened them again, he would be the Georg he was in Vienna for the past two days, flirting shamelessly with Baroness Elsa von Schraeder.

It was no use.

When he opened them again, she was still there, and he still ached to touch her.

Of course he knew he could not lay one finger on her. He was Captain Georg _Ritter _von Trapp, and she was the governess of his children. He was decorated national hero, she was a future nun. All facts considered, they could not be more distant to one another. Facts, however, were not feelings, and now, under the moonlight, he felt closer to her than he had ever felt to any woman before. It was a fact he could not help but to admit to himself. The grief he had felt when he lost Agathe was nothing compared to the angst he felt right now, the need to touch the woman next to him, the one had fought so hard to banish from his thoughts during the time he had been away in Vienna.

For a brief moment, he indulged himself. Powerless to resist, he gave his thoughts free reign. It would not the first time he engaged in such fantasies, and he knew for certain it would not be the last. In fact, he wondered if he was not running the risk of catching pneumonia, because of the many cold showers he had been forced to take because of them. As she looked at the calm lake waters, he could picture her in that very same stance, but in a different scenario.

Instead of a quiet mountain lake, a wild tropical beach.

Instead of the achingly beautiful, but tamed, Austrian countryside, an unexplored paradise, where he would introduce her to another great love of his life – the sea.

Instead of the silvery moonlight, the golden glow of the sun.

Only one thing would remain the same in his reverie: she would still be wearing that blue dress, and she would stare at the rough waters with the same mesmerized expression in her face as she had at this moment.

His allowed mind to wander freely...

---------------------------------------

_She gazed at the sea like she had never seen it before and almost had to kick himself to remember that in fact she had not. Funny how he was so used to the sight of the breaking waves that there had been times in his life when he had taken it for granted. Life, however, had taught him the hard way that things were not always so. Life… and Maria. It was because of her that now he looked at the ocean like it was the first time._

_He turned his head to look at her, standing next to him in her blue dress. Her eyes were partly closed now, as she enjoyed the gentle breeze as if it were a caress. She wiggled her toes, burying them deeper in the sand, letting out a sigh of sheer delight as the water lapped their feet._

"_Would you like to go for a swim?"_

"_Now?!" She looked up at him in complete surprise._

"_Why not now?"_

"_You can't be serious."_

"_O-ho, but I am! A sea captain is always serious about everything and anything that had to do with this," he said, opening his eyes and showing the breathtaking landscape surrounding them._

"_But our clothes…"_

_He answered with a wicked smile and a wink, while he simply kicked away his shoes. _

"_You cannot possibly be considering…"_

_Her__ voice died, and an intake of breath was audible when she realized that his jacket and tie had joined his shoes behind them. _

"_Captain, really!"_

_When his hand went for his belt buckle, she looked like she was about to swoon. Her gaze shifted from him to the breaking waves again, and her cheeks became fiery red. He also knew that it was only her unbreakable pride that was keeping her from shutting her eyes, or worse, from running away to the safety of the villa not far away. He respected her shyness and immediately stopped undressing – he just did not want her to flee from him, like she had done too many times before._

"_Maria," he pleaded softly._

_She looked at him, unable to hide her relief, when she noticed that he had kept most of his clothes on. Boldly, she scanned his appearance from head to foot, not missing one single detail of his appearance. When her eyes fell upon what his clothes were not able to hide - the unmistakable evidence of his need for her -, her eyes widened and she gasped. She was an innocent, but, as she had once admitted to him, as shocking evidence that she was more than familiar with the theoretical aspects of sex – "I grew up in a farm!_" (1). _He knew for certain she knew _precisely_ what she was looking at, when she tore her gaze away immediately, and stared at the breaking waves once more._

"Now_ you look like a sea captain!" she exclaimed, amusedly. He laughed out loud, like he used to do in his old, wild days at sea. "But what if… what if someone sees us?" she asked worriedly, the smile gone from her lips. "We are not exactly properly attired, are we?"_

_He had to laugh at the irony of it. Maria did not know it yet, but whenever he was in his own environment, the sea, he abandoned every social convention he was compelled to live by when he was in dry land._

"_No one will see us," he assured her. "__This must be the most isolated place in the world. In fact, that is the very reason why I brought you here."_

_She still looked around at her, uncertainly. He did not insist._

"_It's all right. I think I can find a way to change your mind." _

_He offered her his hand. With a smile, she took it, without the slightest hesitation, as they walked towards the wild waves. _

----------------------------------------------

He never knew exactly what brought him back from his trance before his thoughts carried him too far – maybe a light breeze, that ruffled the skirts of her dress enough so that the fabric lightly touched his fingers.

"Would you like to go for a swim?" he asked softly from behind her. He could have bitten his own tongue after that. Now it was him who, apparently was, out of a sudden, suffering an appalling lack of verbal control.

She startled and turned around to face him, her hands clutched to her chest.

"Captain?! I didn't know you were here… I mean, I knew you were _here_, I just… erhm… Hallo!" She finished unexpectedly.

Why did she have to look so damned _happy_ every time she saw him? Nervous, flushed, but undoubtedly overcome with joy. There had been a bright, spontaneous smile in her face the moment she realized his presence.

Not anymore. She had stopped talking, and was looking at him, quizzically, her frown mirroring his.

"Did you just ask me if I wanted to go _swimming?_"

He smiled.

"_I guess in real life things are rarely as easy as they are in one's fantasies,_" he brooded. So much for indulging in silly romantic reveries!

"I am sorry, Fräulein. I was – uh - distracted. Seeing you by the lake reminded me of somewhere… someone else," he finished with a shrug. "The words just came out of my mind before I could do anything about it."

"Well, that I can certainly sympathize with," she smiled back.

"I was looking for you," he said abruptly. "The children said I might find you here."

"I am sorry, Captain. I know I was supposed to be inside helping them to get ready. But they are ready and all dressed up. They are also very anxious about the marionettes and the song we'll be singing. I just… I just needed to take a breath."

"Fräulein, there are seven of them, and there is one of you. You are sadly in deep disadvantage, so you are more than entitled to take your breaths now and then. I never meant to imply that you were slacking. Rest assured, you are not late this time."

"Good!" She exclaimed, her hand still in her chest.

He took a step, until he was standing next to her.

"How is the hand?" he inquired, as politeness demanded him to – at least that was what he told himself.

She wiggled her fingers. "Oh, it's just fine! I did not even need Dr. Thürmann after all. I can play my guitar already."

"You were not here when I arrived. I was told there was some trouble at the Abbey."

"Yes. I am sorry about that too."

Deliberately, he decided to misinterpret her statement.

"Pray tell me: how the devil are you able to cause trouble in the Abbey without even being there?"

She moaned.

"It was not me this time, Captain! The… the trouble was already in the convent, and I went there _because_ of it, not because I was the _cause_ of it."

His calculated teasing continued – he was unable to stop himself from provoking her.

"Are you trying to tell me that they called you to… uh… _untrouble_ the situation?" She glowered at him and he grinned back in response. "Never mind, Fräulein. Is there anything I can do to help… the Reverend Mother?"

"Oh no, the Reverend Mother is just fine. I don't think she is even aware of the… the trouble. It is one of my postulant friends who needed my help."

"Uh – what kind of trouble did your friend get herself into?"

"The kind that an aspiring nun should _not_ get herself into," was her unwavering reply.

"Ooh?" he muttered, hoping she would supply him with more details. Not because he was curious about the mysterious affair at Nonnberg, nor because he was, in any way, interested in whatever happened during their daily routine. He simply wanted to hear the sound of her voice, the same sound that he had blocked from his mind for five days. It was absurd, but he missed it!

"She…," she cleared her throat. "Erhm… how can I explain this to you… Well, she _fell in love_."

"O-ho! That is utterly disgraceful," he mocked. "But I think it happens to the best and the worst of us at some point in our lives. Doesn't it?"

She gave it a little shrug, her eyes never leaving the lake. "Oooh, you are asking the wrong person. I wouldn't know that, Captain."

"Mmmm… Why is that so terrible?"

"What?" She did look confused now.

"Your friend falling in love. What is so tragic about it?"

She looked heavenward, apparently considering his question for a moment. Then she frowned – at herself, not at him.

"You may be right, Captain. It should not be so terrible, should it? Of course one mustn't allow something like that to happen if you want to be a nun, but she doesn't even want that. I don't think she ever truly did!"

"Aahhh – so the plot thickens!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "For your information, falling in love is not something that you can control. It is not a matter of allowing it to happen or not, it simply - happens. You may kick and scream and fight, but it grabs you and when you realize it, it is already too late. I know that because…"

He stopped himself, not because he was revealing too much, or not because he realized a future nun would be remotely interested in his romantic musings. It was of the look in her face that silenced him. His governess, however, looked like someone who had just revealed him a terrible secret. One of her hands was covering her mouth – the same hand he had carelessly bruised days before.

"I am sorry, Captain. I should not have told you that. It was meant to be a secret…"

"… Between your friend and you?" She nodded. "Yes, Fräulein, I guessed as much. There is no need to fret about it, I won't tell anyone. I have no reason to tell anyone, do I?" She shook her head in response. "Now, please enlighten me. If she does not want to be a nun and she is in love with someone, wouldn't that make things _easier_?"

"Easier?" she echoed. "Oh, I don't think there is anything _easy_ about poor Theresa's situation, Captain. Although…" she thought for a moment.

"Yes?"

"If I were her and if I were… erhm…"

"… If you were in love," he supplied the words.

"No," she corrected him vehemently. "If it were me, and if I did not want so badly to become a nun, I do think I would… I just might…"

"Run away and be happy – in love or out of it?"

"Yes!" she replied, unfaltering. "That is what I did the moment I realized I was meant to be here… I mean, to be in the Abbey."

"You mean, the magical moment when you had your _calling_?"

"My _calling_?" Her frown was back, but it was there not because she did not know what he was talking about. It was easy to conclude that her odd reaction was because his word had disturbed her deeply.

"Isn't this how you call it? That magical, mystical moment when you feel it in your soul that you are meant for a religious life?"

"Ahem… It does not happen like that for everybody, Captain. Sometimes the Lord is more… subtle when it comes to calling people to His service!"

His breath caught all of a sudden.

"_She never had her calling,_" he realized.

The Lord would not be _subtle_ in her case. Blasphemous as the thought sounded, He would have to come down personally from heaven just to keep her quiet long enough to listen to what He had to say about the life she was meant to live. If not, He would have an army of angels blowing their trumpets in her ears. Whatever her reasons were for wanting to become a nun with such determination, they were not based in any kind of spiritual calling. It is not that he doubted her faith – no, that was there for anyone to see, so eloquent she was about it at times. However, her reasons for choosing that particular path for herself were not as strong as he might have imagined. Or even she, as her reaction indicated.

"But… but… it is not the same thing," she continued, blissfully unaware of the nature of his thoughts. "Theresa has a _family_ she loves deeply. A large and noble family not unlike the von Trapps. They have very high expectations about her future at Nonnberg Abbey. She just… loves them too much to disappoint them, even if it costs her own happiness."

"Hmmm. How noble of her," he muttered, ironically. " Tell me, does she love them as much as she loves… what is his name?"

"She never told me and I did not dare asking. She was sick today. Very, very sick. The whole situation distressed her so much that she fell ill."

"So _that_ is why you went there!" She nodded. "Good, because for a moment I thought you went all the way over there to teach your friend Theresa how to make a proper rope ladder so that she could flee the evil nuns who are keeping her a prisoner!" he said with a low chuckle. "You _can_ make a proper rope ladder, can't you?"

Of course she could. Months later, she would delight him with the tale of how she used to climb down from her convent cell to perform her tasks in the patio downstairs using a rope made of old linen. That instead of walking down the stairs like any average nun would, just to _save time_.

Right now, however, her face remained dead serious and he swallowed his mirth.

"Does the Mother Abbess know about all this?" he asked very seriously, recovering himself.

"Apart from the obvious fact that Theresa is ill, I believe she doesn't."

"I think you are right about that one. If she did, I sincerely doubt she would allow your friend to stay."

"Oh no, Captain. The Reverend Mother would not just… send her away like that!"

"She would, if she knew precisely what she was sending her away to!" They were quiet for a few moments. "I was wondering… is she the one who taught you that song?"

"What song?"

"The one you were singing in Italian the other day in the ballroom. How did it go?" He looked up, to stimulate his memory. "Ah – "_Signore guidami /E dimmi cosa fare /Ho visto l'amore della mia vita /E lui ha visto me..._ (3)".

"Yes, that was Theresa." The smile was back in her face.

"All things considered – appropriate, don't you think?"

The sound of laughter coming from the house broke their silence.

"Mmmm… Well, the children appear to be downstairs already, so if you are ready to go back inside, I am anxious to discover what all that yodeling of the past few days was all about."

"Certainly!"

---

_A/N: __(1) Intermezzo I – Ignorance is Bliss. (2) Intermezzo I – Ignorance is Bliss. (3) See chapter 2 for the full reference._


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: After the mystery of the blue dress has been solved, it´s time for "The Lonely Goatherd"! Again, lots of inspiration from the original German movie and Maria´s books - not to mention my friends from the fun fiction forum._

_Disclaimers and acknowledgements: See previous chapters._

**Edelweiss**

**Chapter VIII**

_**---**_

_**The great events of life often leave one unmoved; they pass out of consciousness, and, when one thinks of them, become unreal. Even the scarlet flowers of passion seem to grow in the same meadow as the poppies of oblivion.**_

_**Oscar Wilde **_

_**---**_

_**Ignorance is not bliss - it is oblivion**_

_**Philip Wylie**_

_**---**_

_**Eyes of most unholy blue!**__**Thomas Moore**_

_**---**_

Everything so bright and beautiful during that summer in Aigen!

Maria would never forget a single moment, for as long as she lived, and when, in her old age, she remembered any of the events that shaped her destiny it would always be like that – full of life, color, and, of course, music. For only a few, blissful days it was like she was living in some kind of fairyland, where everything was beautiful and if any unhappiness was allowed, it was only to make everything else more meaningful.

Sadly, she did not know it then, but the golden days which she would call her time for peace were coming to an end that evening. It would be just the beginning of a mighty wake up call, more eloquent than one hundred sour nuns screaming in her ear. Maria would always consider the events of that evening as her one and true _calling_.

She knew it even then that she was changing, she knew her life would never be the same, and yet, in those days, she simply refused to stop and think about it any longer than necessary, and not only because seven children kept her too busy. She saw those changes in her, the new feelings she was experienced were all a part of the new life the Reverend Mother wanted her to experience before she became a nun. Once she was back to the Abbey, it would all be well and back to normal again, the poignantly sweet memories would fade in time as she readjusted to her new, spiritual life. Her pulse would no longer race, butterflies would not flutter in her stomach, and she would not feel her face on fire at the most inappropriate times. Such things had never happened to her before, in the safety of the convent, and Maria had no reason to believe they would follow her back there when she returned. They were a part of a life that would never belong to her.

It all began so innocently… First, a conversation with a friend who was having serious doubts about her vocation. Then a brief conversation with the Captain by the lake. The final blow would be his voice raised in a song so obviously full of double meaning that it shattered that false sense of security, that inner peace she _thought_ she had felt during those first weeks away from the Abbey.

"_Edelweiss, Edelweiss  
Every morning you greet me  
Small and white, clean and bright  
You look happy to meet me  
Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow  
Bloom and grow forever  
Edelweiss, Edelweiss  
Bless my homeland forever." (1)_

Yet, so much had happened between those two events…

About one hour before she first heard the Captain von Trapp sing, she was back to the ballroom, where she had met him for the first time. That certain room which was to _not to be disturbed_, as he warned her in that brisk, clipped tone, the room that was once so dark and covered with layers of dust, was brightly lit that evening. The mirrors in the walls were so spotlessly clean that they reflected the interior of the room with amazing clarity, multiplying the light and the glittering rainbow reflexes from the chandeliers, made of the finest Austrian crystal. The effect was breathtaking, and Maria found it hard, at first, to focus on the task at hand – to keep her seven charges neat, organized and ready for their presentation – and simply not gawk at her surroundings, just as she had done the first times she had set her eyes in that room.

While the children were warming up her voices, Maria spied on their audience from behind the curtains of the marionette theatre.

Fortunately, only three people would be in attendance. Maria smiled – if only the Captain had given in to Herr Detweiler´s whims, that room would be filled with guests. When the cunning impresario _dared_ to suggest that more people were invited for what he called a "_little musical soirée_", both the Captain and Baroness Schraeder reacted violently, for different reasons.

"_Absolutely _out of the question_!_" had been her employer's standard but very definite response. The idea of his children performing for anyone outside his immediate family was abhorrent to him, as a part of a growing list of "_things that aristocrats never, ever do_" that Maria now kept in her private journal, for future reference. The Baroness had promptly jumped to the Captain's defense, arguing that they didn't even know yet how _good_ the children were. The night could turn into a fiasco, the Captain would be terribly embarrassed…

The words were a small blow to Maria's pride, but she had to admit the Baroness was right. Considering everything that had happened during the rehearsal's only, it was a miracle that the puppet theatre was still standing in one piece! Seven children, dozens of marionettes, delicately crafted by one of Salzburg's most notorious artisans, a stage that was assembled by a nun in training and a former U-boat captain… not exactly the most perfect combination. In fact, added together, it was all a potential disaster, but one she was confident she would be able to avoid.

Now, everything was finally ready for the big event.

Three ornate chairs were facing the large puppet theatre in the center of the ballroom. Two of those were occupied by Baroness Elsa von Schraeder and Max Detweiler. The brief glimpse from behind the curtains had been enough for her to notice that both had a look of genuine boredom in their faces, like they were about to sit through the entire four or five hours of Verdi's _Aida_, and not to a simple, one song, presentation by seven musically talented children coached by an unconventional governess. What Maria could hardly understand was the reason behind the glimmer of mischief in Herr Detweiler´s eyes. Or the unreadable expression in the Baroness's face as she followed the Captain's every movement, as he paced around the ballroom, his hand behind his back.

The Captain…

He pretended to be busy staring at the crystal chandeliers, apparently unaware that he was being subjected by such close scrutiny by every adult in the room... including his governess.

Maria was intrigued. She always prided herself in being quite good at reading people's faces. It was a matter of necessity to her, as a result of so many years living in a convent where silence was the rule from sunset to sunrise. Although she could very well detect mischief in Herr Detweiler´s eyes and boredom in the Baroness's, in moments like this, her employer remained an enigma to her. He was did not look bored, there was no sign of the usual sarcasm in his face. Whatever it was, she could not read his expression.

She told herself that was the reason why she found herself unable to look away from his patrician profile, from the look in his eyes, so clear, so painfully blue... The color of his eyes had been the first thing she had noticed about him, but lately, she seemed to have developed a strange fascination about it. It was the loveliest shade of blue she had ever seen in her entire life. Rich and exotic, like the sapphires she saw once, glittering in the window display of a jewelry shop in the Getreidegasse. She had been told that the stones had come from the Far East, like the silk of the dress she now wore. Unlike the blue in her dress, however, his eyes were dark, like midnight. Like the color of the sky outside the gazebo, while they were talking…

She shivered.

Lord, the man was distracting!

And all she had done was merely try to read his face, worried that he too would not be exactly looking forward to the children's presentation! It was all it took to send her head to the clouds again!

Well, there could not be anything wrong in admiring the Lord's beautiful work, could it? His eyes undoubtedly belong to that category – right next to the Untersberg and all the other mountains surrounding them… Although she had never dreamed about the natural beauties of the Salzkammergut night after night after night.

She heard the melodious sound of Baroness Schroeder's voice calling the Captain to her side.

"Georg, darling!"

His lips curled into such a sad smile that Maria's heart sunk. The wistful look disappeared from his eyes as quickly as it came and the aristocratic Baron's mask was back. Soon, he was laughing at some outrageous comment made by Herr Detweiler, while Baroness Schraeder held his arm.

"_There is nothing to worry about, Maria. They are not used to children, that is all. There is a very good chance that they are as nervous as you are… including the Captain. Well, not quite, but they certainly have no idea of what is in store for them. As fond as he is of them, Herr Detweiler rarely sees the children. The Captain is just learning to be close to them again, he is bound to feel a little uncomfortable from time to time. And poor, dear Baroness Schraeder! It must be overwhelming to find herself in love with a man who already has seven children of his own when you have never…"_

There it was, that plaguing word again – _love._ Clearly, Theresa's story had disturbed her more than she thought possible. She recalled her friend's words earlier that day, just after she told Maria that she was seriously considering leaving the convent…

"_You have been living with the von Trapp family for weeks now, Maria. You have seen how it is out there__, in the outside world. How can you still want to remain here so badly? You can read all the books you want, and not only the ones in the Nonnberg library. You can climb your mountains without any fear of being late for vespers._"

Maria had been about to interrupt and inform Theresa about the Captain's notorious intolerance with tardiness, when the final blow was delivered by her friend: "_You can fall in love, and know what it is like to be held by a man who loves you too."_

"_No, I don't want that!" _she had exclaimed, shrieking.

"_Yes, I know very well about your aversion to tragic love stories. But why not? __Aren't you even curious to know what it feels like before you commit yourself to Nonnberg for life?"_

"_I don't need to know what it feels like, Theresa; I know what it does to people. No, don't look at me like that – I am not speaking of Shakespeare or Goethe only. Look at poor Captain von Trapp, for instance. His grief nearly destroyed him, it nearly killed the love his children had for him."_

"_Ooohhh, look at _who_ I am trying to convince. A tomboy who broke the nose of the one boy who ever tried to kiss her?"_

"_I did not break his nose! I just… bruised it. And it _is _different for me."_

"_How so?"_

"_You grew up surrounded by a loving family, you know what you are giving up, and that is what makes it so hard for you. I am on my own; I have been since I had crossed those gates. There is nothing for me out there, in the world. At least nothing that I can find in here as well, safe and in peace. Believe me, there was enough tragedy in my life even before I was born, I don't wish to add a few more to my family history. It must stop with me."_

"_The von Trapps…"_

"… _are_ not _my family. I'm just on loan to them, as the Reverend Mother says. It is rather painful to think about it, but it is true. The affection those children feel for me today will fade in time as soon as I leave. One year from now, they'll only remember me as their eleventh governess – the one they did not scare away. The Captain…"_

"_Yes. What about the Captain?"_

"_What about him?"_

"_I asked you first!"_

"_Never mind the Captain__! He has nothing to do with this. God knows the man has enough to occupy his thoughts with – seven motherless children hungry for his affection, the woman he intends to marry… not to mention the state of Austrian politics. What matters to him what I do with my life?"_

"_All right then, but what if _someone_ falls in love with you first? It was like that for me, you know…"_

"_Pray tell me, _who_ would fall in love with _me?!_"_

"_Oh Maria!"_

"_I am serious!"_

"_What about that boy who helps with the choir – the one who plays the violin. The cook's son?"_

"_Werner? (1)__ Oh, he is not in love with me. We're just good friends, that is all. He loves Lizzie, who lives in Hallein. They will be married just before Christmas, didn't you know that?"_

"_Fine. Let us rule out Werner, then. But you should know that wearing this habit does not make you immune to anything, including love."_

Maria frowned at the thought, looking down at her blue dress.

She did not agree with Theresa at all. The dark habit and her wimple would not protect her against anything, but maybe she should wear them more often. The Reverend Mother said there was no need for her to do that outside the convent, but it would be a good idea, just in case someone started having funny ideas about her (2). Dresses made of the finest blue silk, as lovely as they were, were not suited for a future nun, at least not one who believed it was the life she was made for. Yes, tomorrow she would be back to wearing her habit again – wimple and all. Besides, the Captain still wore that wedding gold band in his right hand, as if his wife had never died. And there was the ring in the Baroness's hand.

Her eyes were inevitably drawn to the impressive diamond in the aristocratic lady's finger – a gift for the late Baron Schraeder, most probably. It should be a gift of love, but Elsa von Schraeder gave her the impression that she cared more about the value and the glittering lights cast by the stone in her finger than the memory of the man who gave it to her. All right, maybe she was being unfair, but she would find very hard to believe that she had loved her husband the same way the Captain had loved the children's mother. Or that she loved the Captain as his first wife had loved him.

Strange as it seemed, the idea of the Baroness in love with the Captain was like a small punch to her stomach. She had not lied to Theresa about one thing - whenever she tried to imagine what would happen in that house after she left, it _hurt_. So much that she never lingered upon such thoughts.

This time, however, she could not help but focusing her attention upon Baroness Schraeder again. The woman still had that certain mysterious look in her face, but it was most definitely _not_ at all like the look that Theresa had in her face when she was speaking about the boy she loved only hours before. Furthermore, it wasn't remotely close to the look in the Captain's eyes while he spoke her of love by the lake. It was obvious that he had been thinking about his late wife all the time, and not about Elsa von Schraeder!

All right - she had read enough of the novels Liesl had introduced her to in order to know that marriages in the upper classes were seldom based in mutual love in the first place, but considering the fact that the Captain had married for love once, she would expect that he would want to do so again...

Wouldn't he?

"_Stop it Maria! Such matters are none of your concern, you are just the governess. In less than a month you'll be back at Nonnberg where you truly belong, and these people will not even remember your existence. Even the children!"_

Brigitta was the child who would rescue her from her untimely reveries.

"Fräulein!"

Maria startled a little, only then realizing that she had been spying on the Captain and his guests for… well, a little longer than propriety demanded.

"Yes, darling?"

"We are ready and our voices are warmed up!"

"Mm mm!"

"What were you looking at?" inquired Louisa slyly, coming to join her, to peek at the audience.

"Oh, nothing much. I was just checking our audience and wondering why your father keeps staring at the lights like that. I wonder if he thinks we did not do a very good job at cleaning all those tiny beads…"

"_Well, it was partly true, anyway,_" she thought, proud of her quick wit.

"Easy – he is remembering mother! We can always tell when he has that far away look in his face."

"The chandeliers were hers," explained Brigitta. "They were brought all the way from England when they were married. Mother used to say that since they were made in Austria, they belonged in Austria! You wouldn't believe how hard it was to ship them from Britain, but mother was adamant."

It was another depressing thought; she'd had her share of those since very early that day. Taking a deep breath, she peeked at the audience one last time.

Where on earth was Captain von Trapp? He was there only a moment ago, chatting with his guests. Now his chair was empty, he was nowhere to be seen.

Well, it did not matter anyway. As strict as he was about punctuality, he would certainly be back there in precisely two and a half minutes, which was when the presentation would begin. O-ho, she would have the time of her life later, giving him a piece of her mind for being late. She smiled as she tried to imagine the scene and the disconcerted look in his face when she chastised him for being late… However, her purpose would be completely ruined if the children – and her – were late to begin their show in the first place.

With that in mind, she began issuing orders to her charges, using a bit of the naval jargon she had picked up from them during the previous weeks. Backstage and front stage became aft and bow. Left and right were portside and starboard, and so on. It was amazing how quickly she had learned such interesting new words from them!

While she ordered them about, she was oblivious of the fact that she sounded more like her naval captain employer than a governess who used to climb trees with her charges. The children did not seem to mind her stern voice, and her "_firm but kind_" demeanor. In fact, they responded to it perfectly, and the fact that now and then she attempted to use a language they were familiar with only helped to keep them in control.

It was not until she heard the children's protests that she realized that her missing employer was actually peeping behind the stage, only a foot or two from her, with an amused grin in his face.

"Uh - permission to come aboard… _Captain_," he said, with the usual refined irony.

"Denied!" Friedrich replied promptly, while Maria blushed to the roots of her hair, because he had obviously heard her clumsy attempts in using Naval jargon.

"_He must think I am so silly,_" she admonished herself, rolling her eyes. "_A mountain girl who never had her feet wet by the ocean trying to order people around sounding more like… like Popeye the Sailor than Captain Nemo,_" she thought, remembering one of the Kurt's favorite Comic books and her own favorite sea captain (1).

The Captain looked at his son, feigning offense. "Friedrich, I believe I was addressing your superior officer_, not you_!"

"Ooooohh," Maria moaned impatiently, although the words "_superior officer" _caused her to smile inwardly. This time, however, it was Friedrich who turned beet red.

"That was quite good, actually, Fräulein," her employers spoke again. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, telling her that she should brace herself for another verbal battle. His next caustic words started it.

"You have no idea how… _illuminating_ this is to me!"

"_Illuminating, _Captain?"

"Dare I hope that one of these days you'll have my children back to wearing their uniforms and answering to whistle signals?"

"I can be firm when I have to, Captain, otherwise they won't listen to…"

"Hah!" was his sudden, triumphant exclamation. Her eyes widened impossibly. "I knew sooner or later you would finally admit that _I was right all along_."

"I am most certainly not admitting anything, I was merely…"

"Father, you cannot be here!" interrupted Marta before Maria could finish the proper answer she _needed_ to throw back at her infuriating employer.

"Fräulein Maria's orders," added Gretl.

"Yes – you'll spoil the surprise this way," said Brigitta, rushing him back to the audience, but not before Maria had the time to scowl at him not only for intruding backstage but also for daring to suggest that she agreed with his utterly absurd, outdated, pedagogical methods. It must have been a very impressive glower, because he did something completely out of the ordinary – he _saluted_ her.

Her jaw dropped and she gawked at him.

The standard military salute was executed with perfection, unlike the mock one she had given him on her first day in the house.

"Well, my compliments! You do run a tight ship, _Captain_," he muttered softly, not without an obvious hint of admiration. "I'll leave you to your charges now. Uh - _break a leg!_" He smirked, turned and left without another word.

"You want me to break a _what_?!" she shrieked.

"That is what they say in the theatre, Fräulein. For luck," Friedrich explained.

"Mmmm," she moaned, suspiciously.

"_So much for military discipline,_" she grumbled, as soon as he disappeared from her sight.

Once the children were ready and in position, Maria hurried to turn the gramophone on, so that the accompanying music would start. Applause was heard as the lively folksong began.

"_Now,_" Maria thought. "_Oh God, please let me do everything right _just this once!" She quickly uttered a silent prayer, only to break into a smile when she noticed him tiptoeing back to his chair, one finger on his lips, demanding silence and attention from the rest of the audience. _That_ was certainly another whimsical side of the Captain's personality she had not been introduced to yet.

"Marta! Curtain!" she called in a whisper to the little girl in charge.

The curtain opened to reveal a solitary marionette - a shepherd wearing lederhosen.

**_---_**

_**High on a hill was a lonely goatherd  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo  
Loud was the voice of the lonely goatherd  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo**_

Folks in a town that was quite remote heard  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo  
Lusty and clear from the goatherd's throat heard  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

O ho lay dee odl lee o, o ho lay dee odl ay  
O ho lay dee odl lee o, lay dee odl lee o lay

A prince on the bridge of a castle moat heard  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo  
Men on a road with a load to tote heard  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

Men in the midst of a table d'hote heard  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo  
Men drinking beer with the foam afloat heard  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

One little girl in a pale pink coat heard  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo  
She yodeled back to the lonely goatherd  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

Soon her Mama with a gleaming gloat heard  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo  
What a duet for a girl and goatherd  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

Happy are they lay dee olay dee lee o . . .  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo  
Soon the duet will become a trio  
Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo

Rodgers & Hammerstein, The Lonely Goatherd

**_---_**

It wasn't _perfect_ in the end, but it hardly mattered to anyone. Not to the governess, and most certainly not to the children. The little flaws here and there only helped to make it all more… _enchanting_.

Yes – _enchanting _was the best word Georg would use to describe Marta forgetting her cues, or Gretl blowing the fake beer foam right on her governess's face, making her cough and momentarily loose her voice just as she was about to start yodeling at the top of her lungs.

Apart from that, everything else _was_ perfect. Their singing was flawless, their pitch impeccable.

Well, at least _her_ singing was.

Flawless. Annoyingly perfect.

Hearing his governess singing that little love song in Italian could hardly have prepared him for the full vocal range of her voice. Nor did the bits and pieces of their rehearsals he had head from the terrace. He found himself holding his breath as she sang higher and higher, in fear that eventually her voice would fail her, but it never did. It had such purity to it, that he did not doubt that his precious wine glasses made of the purest Austrian crystal would be in danger if she ever sang like that standing too close to them.

When it was all over, the first thing he did was to let out an enormous sigh of relief. Then, much to his own surprise, he started _laughing_. He had not been able to help himself. The simple truth is that, at least in that moment, when the sound of the last note died in the little Fräulein´s lips, he was _happy_. An elusive, fleeting happiness, he knew that, but it was something he had not felt, probably since he heard that Austria had lost the war. Laugher was the only possible natural response. He did not recall having heard himself laugh like that for a long time. The sound of it, devoid of any hint of sarcasm was a shock to him.

He was still laughing and applauding when the children jumped out from behind the stage to bow and curtsy at their small audience.

"Bravo! Wonderful!" he exclaimed.

Marta and Gretl were the first to run to Herr Detweiler. They both looked like they were in a mission, with a very specific question in mind.

"Can we really keep the puppet show, Uncle Max?"

"Yes, may we?"

"Of course, you may, my darlings. Why else would I have told the Professor to send the bill to your father?"

"_Well, I should have seen this one coming,_" he thought, addressing one of his ironic smirks to his friend. But before he could say anything to set the matter straight, the children began chatting with excitement and followed Max out the room, bombarding their favorite uncle with questions.

It wasn't until he was left alone with Elsa von Schraeder that he remembered _her _once more– the governess, in that blue dress of hers. He could hear her fumbling and fussing backstage, but she had yet to make an appearance.

Why was she taking so long? She couldn't be feeling shy to face her audience after such a success, could she?

"_Oh my dear Fräulein, if only you were true to yourself, you would see that _this_ might be your true calling,_" he thought. "_To have me laugh like that because of the children when in your first days here I could hardly look them in the eye. Tell me how will you be able to accomplish such miracles living the grim life of a cloistered nun? No, Fräulein, you call it God's will, but right now, I call it a waste… Such a terrible, pitiful _waste! _And if I had only half the bravery some say I possess, I would do something about it._"

The smile froze in his lips at the thought. The woman by his side noticed it.

"What a shame! I thought this was going to last, but I guess not," said Elsa, nudging him.

"Why, do you wish me to call them back for an _encore_, darling? I had no idea you enjoyed the children's singing so much!"

"No, not the children. _You,_ of course. One moment, you were laughing like I have not heard you laugh in ages, the next, there you were, brooding again!"

"I was not brooding, this time. I was only… inspired by my children and my… by my children, that is all there was to it," he said quickly.

The subject of his thoughts finally emerged to face their audience, and he stopped what he was about to say. Fräulein Maria he leaned against the theater and let out a very theatrical sigh. He found himself unable to do anything else but to smile. She could sing like one of the nine muses, but on stage, she would be a terrible actress.

"Well done, Fräulein. I really am very, very much impressed," he said, bowing politely. There was no sarcasm, no hidden meaning. It was not a reprieve disguised as a compliment this time; he was simply praising her, openly and honestly. Obviously something she was not used to hear from him – or anyone else, he could guess. It took her aback, but she recovered quickly.

He _was_ damn well impressed.

By everything, not only his children – by her voice, by that demure, but fetching, blue dress that shifted and changed with her every move, in a way that was enough to drive any hot blooded male crazy just trying to imagine what was hidden underneath the blue silk folds.

"They're _your_ children, Captain," she retorted by stating the obvious, her arms wide.

Bewilderment was etched all over her face. It was clear that she too still could not bring herself to stop smiling. She seemed at a loss, not sure about what to do.

The trouble was that he too, found himself momentarily… _perturbed_.

Rendered speechless by a mere slip of a girl! That was something that had not happened to him since he was a youth. Meanwhile the girl in question just stood there, shifting her weight restlessly from one foot to another, looking up at him, as if waiting… almost _begging_ for him to say something. Something that she had no idea yet that she needed to hear…

"_Be careful, Fräulein. Your face is as clear as a mirror and any seasoned sailor like me can read you like an open book! Maybe you are safer in that Abbey of yours after all. Maybe you would find yourself in too much trouble in the outside world, an easy pray for men like…"_

Like him?

No, it would be unthinkable!

Yes, _safe_.

He thought immediately of his good old friend, Max Detweiler, for instance. The day before, Maria's voice had reached them while they were having their usual refreshments in the terrace. Max had simply stopped breathing, and his eyes glinted in a very peculiar manner.

"_Very good!"_ he had exclaimed.

"_Ah ha! Don't even think it!"_ had been his curt warning. "_You may go out and chase your little singing groups all over Austria if that is what you want, but _leave my governess alone!_"_

"_But Georg, that girl__ could…"_

"_Yes, she _could_, but she _is_ going to be a nun in only a few weeks and undoubtedly would not be interested in anything you might offer her."_

"_I could make her famous. She could make me famous!"_

_  
"Max!"_

However, he was sure that Max was still _thinking_. Judging by the impresario's stance during the entire song, it was obvious he was doing his math, thinking about how much money he could make, about who were the right people to call. The problem was that he knew how his friend worked only too well, and would not wish to be in the place of one of his struggling young artists. Max Detweiler was the most loyal friend he could possibly ask for, but as an impresario, he was… oh well, _ruthless_. He hated to think about what he would do to someone as fresh and impressionable as Maria was.

Without a question, Max could – and would – make her famous. She might even resist the idea at first, but Max was notorious for was his powers of persuasion. Oh, she would be dazzled for a while, and would have the chance to have a life every other woman dreamed of. But the moment she was not as profitable to Max's businesses anymore, he would simply discard her and look for another fresher, younger talent to explore.

What would happen to Maria then?

He shuddered just to think of it.

"_Maybe you are right after all, Fräulein,_" he thought. "_Maybe you will be safer there, where no harm would ever come to you._"

"Well, I must say that I am just as impressed, Fräulein," Elsa broke the silence. "Georg here would be the first to tell you how seldom that happens!"

"O-ho, that is true!"

"Thank you, Baroness, but… but the children did most of the hard work. I just helped them."

"Now, don't be modest! You have a lovely singing voice, my dear. Have you ever had any formal training?"

Maria shook her head. "No, not really. Although I have been singing for as long as I can remember, I did not have any voice lessons until I joined the postulant's choir."

"I don't know if you have any idea of what you just did."

"Well, I…"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously at Elsa.

"_What the devil is she doing now?"_ he thought.

Had he been so careless that the unexplainable physical attraction he felt for the little Fräulein had become so obvious for everyone to see? Including the woman he had every intention of marrying? His governess could not be more oblivious of it, of course, but the Baroness was treating her just like she treated other women she saw as competitors for his attention, and as such, she was a potentially dangerous adversary. He had seen it happening before, and frankly there were times he found Elsa's cunning intimidation tactics something highly amusing to watch.

He was most definitely _not_ enjoying himself now.

Fräulein Maria was no competition to Elsa, never was, and never would be. She was the governess of his children. Unsophisticated in the ways of the world as she was, she would have no idea how to defend herself as Elsa slowly snared her into a trap.

"_It's the dress,_" he quickly concluded.

The blue dress had to be the reason for the change in Elsa's attitude towards Maria, which was now from the polite, cool indifference with which she treated everyone she qualified as "_the help_". It had to be the dress, because the moment Elsa saw Maria in it, her face paled. If she had devised any kind of devious plan by giving the little Fräulein the blue silk, it had clearly backfired in a spectacular manner.

"Ahem… What did I do exactly, Baroness?" Fräulein Maria's state of confusion visibly worsened. He did not recall ever seeing her like that, and he did not like it. She was now wringing her hands nervously, clutching them against her chest.

His jaw clenched, his hands tightened into fists – Elsa's intimidation tactics were working brilliantly, as usual. Why did he suddenly feel like stepping in front of his governess, shielding her from the Baroness?

"I am not easily impressed, but I must say that Captain von Trapp is _never_ impressed. You, my darling, a postulant at Nonnberg Abbey somehow managed to render this man _speechless_," she ended, placing both hands in his shoulders, in a possessive gesture. "You do know _who_ this man is, don't you?"

Maria's reaction was utterly unexpected. Her arms dropped to her side, and she rolled her eyes, unable to disguise her annoyance. Certainly not what Elsa was aiming for. His lips twitched into a smile – maybe he had been misjudging his governess. In her own intuitive way, she knew very well how to defend herself. Again, he could guess exactly what was going through her mind - the poor girl was obviously sick and tired of hearing everyone around her singing his praises. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from the governess, while, impulsively, he translated her thoughts into words.

"I am quite sure Fräulein Maria knows quite well who I am by now, Elsa. But I fail to see why my reputation has anything to do with my reaction to the children's singing."

He held Elsa's gaze. Her cool blue eyes challenged him. He challenged her back, wordlessly.

For a mad moment, he actually considered not only shielding _Fräulein Maria_ from the Baroness, but offering her his arm as well. Fortunately, reason and good sense intervened. It would have been the most unforgivable _faux-pas_ of his life if he did that, but he caught himself just in time. He shifted uncomfortably, finally taking his future bride's arm, grinning apologetically.

They started walking out of the ballroom. Fräulein Maria silently followed them, her head bowed.

Elsa, however, was far from admitting defeat.

"Well, you are a very interesting creature!" she exclaimed, stopping when they were half way through the door. She turned around to face Maria, giving her a thorough, up and down look. He cursed inwardly – he had seen women far more worldly and experienced shrink under that look. Yet, his governess did not even flinch.

"_No, she can't be that innocent! Elsa's look was one of pure venom, and any woman would have been able to read the real intention behind her words and react immediately. She should, at the very least, be intimidated, and she is not. She is a little bewildered, that is all. But then, what if she is not that innocent, at least not in that respect. If that is any true, she would not hesitate in accepting whatever glamorous life Max would have to offer her…,_" he thought, irritably.

Well, if that was the case, he would have to find out. Immediately.

"O-ho yes! I am sure Max is already having a few ideas of his own," he provoked.

But it was Elsa, not Maria, who reacted first.

"How true! He had that certain look in his face all the time while you were yodeling, didn't he darling?" she asked, turning to him, who now pretended to be busy with a non existing speck of dust in his jacket. "He is up to something!"

"Not if he knows what is good for him," he smirked.

He aimed his gaze at Maria.

"It seems that my governess has very specific plans future, and nothing on earth will have the power to change her mind," he said tersely. "Isn't that true – Fräulein?" Before Maria could say anything he continued provoking her. "You are _not,_ perhaps, considering the idea of leaving the convent to pursue a career in – uh – the musical theatre, are you?"

"Certainly not," she replied, giggling nervously. "That would be completely absurd."

Her honest answer brought him relief, and he let his grin broaden to another genuine smile – the second one she earned from him that evening.

"The Abbey is my life, Captain and I don't think that there is anything on earth powerful enough to convince me to leave it."

Oddly enough, _not _what he would want to hear from _her_. This time, however, it was Elsa who visibly relaxed when she heard the answer. It was her turn to smile to Maria, for the first time that evening like she was simply who she was – the governess of his children, and not a woman competing for his attention.

He let out a huge breath of relief. All seemed to be back to normal again.

"My dear, is there anything you can't do?" Elsa asked, coolly. "That little dress of yours is lovely! Did you make it yourself?"

"Yes, but I had plenty of help. Frau Poppmeier…"

"Oh, there she goes again, being modest. There is no need for that around us, my dear. You accomplished a veritable miracle with so little fabric. You are good with children, you have a beautiful voice? Any other talents we will be surprised with?"

"Well, I'm not sure I'll make a very good nun."

The witty retort made him chuckle. No, he would not have to worry about Max stealing this one from the convent. On the contrary, it was Fräulein Maria who had a better chance at convincing Herr Detweiler to embrace priesthood.

"Well, if you have any problems I'd be happy to help you."

Having said those enigmatic parting words, Elsa smiled coolly and walked next to him into the grand front hall, clutching his arm with unexpected force.

As hard as he tried, he could not take look away from Fräulein Maria in her blue dress…

------------------------

_A/N: (1) __"Treasures". (2) I added this because, in my mind, the story that follows this one would be "Underneath her Wimple" (to be revised and expanded one of these days)._


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: It is never enough to mention that there were several sources of inspiration here, and if you are familiar with any of them, you'll recognize the signs here and there. Of course I must give them credit. First of all, Ilandra´s amazing "Something Good", which was the building block for this chapter. I also used snippets of dialogues from the German movie "Die Trapp Familie". Biggins´s book, "A Sailor of Austria" was certainly helpful, and I used some ideas from there as well. Thanks to all those sources, I could expand the original dialogues a little bit._

Well, enough talk for now. Thank you for your reviews, and I hope you have fun with this one!

Disclaimer: I do not own "The Sound of Music" or "Die Trapp Familie"... or anything else!

**Edelweiss**

**Chapter IX**

_**---**_

_**Eyes so transparent,  
That through them one sees the soul.**__**---**_

Pierre Jules Theophile Gautier

_**Long while I sought to what I might compare  
Those powerful eyes, which light my dark spirit;  
Yet found I nought on earth, to which I dare  
Resemble th' image of their goodly light  
Not to the sun, for they do shine by night;  
Nor to the moon, for they are changed never;  
Nor to the stars, for they have purer sight;  
Nor to the fire, for they consume not ever;  
Nor to the lightning, for they still persever;  
Nor to the diamond, for they are more tender;  
Nor unto crystal, for nought may they sever;  
Nor unto glass, such baseness might offend her;  
Then to the Maker's self the likest be;  
Whose light doth lighten all that here we see.**__**Edmund Spenser**_

_**---**_

He was suave, sophisticated, _debonair_.

He had a quick, cunning mind and the wittiest, darkest sense of humor.

He was moody and passionate and only those few who were very close to him knew about his softer side that he hid so fiercely. He could be irresistibly protective, but never in a way that would threaten any woman's independence.

He was also dangerously handsome.

In essence, he was everything a woman of good taste and impeccable upbringing would ever want in a man. Certainly he was exactly what Elsa von Schraeder, née _Comtesse Enns_, had wanted, ever since she had laid her eyes upon him, the day her best friend, Agathe Whitehead had christened the first U-boat he commanded. Agathe became his wife shortly after that, Elsa ended up marrying an elderly man to which she was loyal, but never really loved.

The next time Elsa, now Baroness Schraeder saw him was in a ceremony in the Schönbrunn Palace, where he was awarded the coveted Maria-Theresien Cross. There he stood, next to the Emperor himself, as the incarnation of all heroic virtues, the embodiment of all traditional values of Old Austria, married to a lovely English rose from a traditional family of seamen. Now he was officially the _Ritter _von Trapp, receiving the homage of a large crowd of cheering, flag-waving Viennese citizens, a Naval guard of honor and journalists of a dozen different nationalities. They all agreed upon one thing – no matter what the man had done to receive such a high honor, he was just what a Knight of the Order of Maria-Theresia should be like. He presented such a powerful image that day that even the aging Emperor, with the centuries of Habsburg blood running in his veins, was overshadowed by him (1).

There could be no doubt that she was everything a man like him could possibly want as well. She was indecently rich, beautiful and intelligent. In theory, they were the perfect match in the eyes of everyone belonging to their exclusive social environment. They would make such a striking, extraordinary couple in every sense of the world.

Sadly, _only in theory_.

Because lately, those transparent dark blue eyes were hardly ever fixed upon her for more than a few seconds. In fact, there had been a few occasions when she had a feeling he purposely avoided meeting her gaze directly, at least for too long. Instead, his eyes often strayed to follow every movement of the girl sent from a convent to take care of his seven children.

The so-called _governess. _

What was most intriguing to her was that the _Fräulein,_ as he called her, was not by far the type of woman a man of the caliber of Captain Georg _Ritter_ von Trapp would be remotely interested. As a matter of fact, she doubted that if he had crossed paths with a girl like that in a busy street, he would not even turn his head for a second look. Unfortunately, that had not been the case – the little ragamuffin had showed up at his doorstep, send by none other than the illustrious Reverend Mother of Salzburg's centenary Nonnberg Abbey.

As hard as she tried, she could not understand the reason for their growing mutual attraction. The little Fräulein was the opposite of every woman one would think he would be drawn to in the first place. The opposite of _her_, Elsa von Schraeder, and everything she was and represented to him. True, the governess was young, she had a pleasant looking face, and a fine figure, but her appeals ended there. She lacked breeding, elegance, and, most of all, manners. More than once she had seen the children helping her when she struggled with the wrong silverware during dinner.

Yet, there were a few things about her that would certainly appeal to some basic aspects of the a man's psyche... especially the one of a quintessential alpha-male like Georg.

From the top of her dark blond head to the tip of her toes, she was wholesome and clean, in every sense of the word. Her innocence was blatant to the point of being threatening to some women, but utterly seductive to a man. She sported the most unflattering, irregular haircut she had seen, which left her neck and her virgin earlobes completely exposed. She wore not a trace of make up to hide the bridge of freckles across her nose, or a single piece of jewelry. Worse, unknowingly, she was doing everything _right_ when it came to attracting male attention, from her vivacity and innocent wit, her improper outbursts to her fidgeting hands, now neatly folded across her chest, like the good convent bred girl she was.

Now, he could hardly look away from her. It had been like that ever since he had met her, but now Georg´s fascination with his governess was growing worse with every passing day.

And, of course, there was that blasted dress, that little scrape of blue…

Honestly, she had no wicked, evil plan when she decided to give the governess the sample of fabric her soon to be former _couturier_ had sent her from Vienna. She just wanted to get rid of it, that had been all. The fact that the simple gift had made her look good in Georg´s eyes had been only an unexpected bonus. She found the color nauseous – not the bright, intense Mediterranean blue that she knew he loved with all his soul, but just a faded pastel that would be completely unsuitable to her, or to any other mature woman she could think of. Heavens, she had never stopped to imagine what a convent girl would manage to sew with a couple of yards of the finest silk, no matter how uninteresting the color was.

Fräulein Maria had not disappointed her in that respect – not a first glance. The dress was exactly what she would imagine a future nun would wear. However, when the little nun came out from behind the puppet stage, she saw certain details of the dress, and understood why Georg seemed so… _entranced_ by it. His governess would be appalled if anyone told her, but although the frock was not necessarily flattering to her young figure, there were certain _details_ in it that were enough to appeal to a hot blooded male. Those transparent sleeves, for instance. And the way the skirts hugged her legs when she walked. Fortunately they were inside the house, because if they were inside, a sudden gush of wind against her would be enough so that the dress clung to her figure, displaying everything she had worked so well to hide.

And the little Fräulein had been there, outside, with him, just before the presentation began…

"_Oh Georg, what am I going to do about you? You are a hopeless case!_" she thought.

Hopeless?

No, not really – not if she could help it.

Naturally, there wasn't anything that she could do about him. She could hardly blame him for being so besotted with the girl – he was just being a man, still in his prime, with hormones raging. For twenty years she had learned to forgive her dear, sweet Rufus, who didn't have one tenth of Georg´s appeal, for his little _peccadilloes_, because in the end, it would be to her arms he would return to. Even though she had never felt about her late husband what she felt for Georg, she needed to use the same reasoning now, as much as it hurt her. She knew him only too well – the surest way to loose him would be to start acting like a jealous, possessive woman.

However, even though she was powerless anything about Georg, she could certainly do something about the little nun… She had been considering the best possible strategy since the day before they had left for Vienna to attend the funeral of Pauline Eberfeld´s fiancé. It was when the alarm bells began to peel madly.

To her amazement, when she walked into the ballroom that day, she was greeted by the side of Baron Georg von Trapp as she had never seen him: in his suit and tie, as usual, but sweaty and unkempt, with his hair in disarray, while attempting to assemble a marionette theatre. Why had he not left the menial task to one of his many servants, or hired someone to do it, had been beyond her comprehension, but soon enough she was reminded of _who_ he was.

Georg was the kind of man who would take matters in his own hands whenever he thought that he could do a better job himself. That came from years and years crossing the ocean aboard a small submarine where there was barely room for him or the seven or eight other members of his crew – who did not exactly belong to the elite of the Imperial Navy - to stand up straight. On more than one occasion, she had seen Georg´s irascible father, who strictly abided to the values and beliefs of the old Austrian aristocracy, scandalized when he heard his son describe the menial tasks he had to perform inside his U-boat, regardless of the fact that he was the Captain. Ludwig von Trapp had never quite accepted his son's choice of career inside the Navy, but would live long enough to choke in his own words when he attended that ceremony in the Schönbrunn Palace.

"_It is nice to see you again in touch with your more down-to-earth side, Georg. That is certainly one aspect of your personality our friends don't see very often these days. Oh my, you do look rather fetching, all sweaty and disheveled, don't you think, Fräulein?_" she had provoked them both, Captain and governess.

Actually, she had never seen him like that, not in public, of course or in any of the social functions they ever attended together. And most certainly – not to mention, quite unfortunately – she had yet to see him in private. It was a side of him she knew existed only by hearing tales from his glorious Navy days, but never had witnessed herself. All right, she had to admit that, although she was no virginal, convent bred anything, she was as taken aback as the innocent young governess had been. The only difference had been that her sophistication had permitted to hide it from him more effectively.

His looks, however, had hardly been the problem that day. The worst had been to find him looking down at the young governess as if she were a sweet tender morsel ready to be savored. She guessed that the cold shower he certainly took that evening was needed not only to wash the sweat from his body!

And then, tonight, there had been that excruciatingly awkward moment when he visibly almost gave him to the impulsive of offering the insignificant little Fräulein his arm. Oh, she knew him too well by now, enough to know that he held himself back in the last possible instant, and offered her – _Elsa von Schraeder,_ that simple courtesy.

"_Well, at least he hasn't yet forgotten himself,_" she thought, relieved, although she had to acknowledge that, unless she did something drastic, he would soon do just that.

Thankfully, she was now beyond suspicion, fully aware of what was going on.

Stealing a glance back at him, she saw him stepping aside, politely, to allow Fräulein Maria to exit the ballroom and follow Max and the children into the foyer. Her eyes narrowed into slits when she saw him give the young governess a typical look of male appraisal.

"Attention! Attention, everyone!" Max said loudly, as the group of children circled him. The poor darlings seemed to be blessedly oblivious of the fact that their father was very close to making a spectacle of himself because of a paid employer! Oh, she almost gave him to the urge of kissing Max, to thank him, for diverting Georg´s attention from the governess! "I have an announcement to make!"

Seven von Trapp children stared expectantly at him, their eyes wide. Georg was looking at his friend suspiciously. Fräulein Maria vanished in the background, resuming her place of a servant in the household, hands on her back, dutifully staying away from family matters… as she should do at all times when the family was present, as a matter of fact.

"Surprise, surprise," chanted Max, savoring the moment as only he could, simply delighted by all curious eyes focused upon him. Only when he was certain that he was indeed the center of everybody's attention, he continued his speech.

"Today, after a long and desperate search, I have finally found a most exciting entry for the Salzburg Folk Festival!"

"_Long and desperate? Oh Max!_"

Elsa's lips twitched into a little, secretive smile. Except for those telephone calls to Paris and Stockholm to solve the dreadful Sasha Petrie situation, Max Detweiler had done nothing else but fully enjoy Georg´s hospitality. It was all too obvious that there was only _one_ singing group he could be referring too.

"_Max, darling, you are absolutely out of your mind,_" she would have told him only if they were alone.

It was also obvious that Georg was no fool and knew what was about to come. Only that could explain the menacing look in his eyes.

"_Poor, darling Georg – he must be cringing at the thought of his family singing in public, and worse, for money,_"she thought, shaking her head. He was most certainly as stuffy as his parents had been, not nearly as conventional about some things. He had broken enough social rules in his time, but _that_ would be too much, even for him.

Georg, however, decided to deal with the situation by using his best weapon – his unusually refined irony. Having heard Max's triumphant announcement, he shut the double doors to the ballroom behind him noisily.

"Congratulations, Max! _Who_ will you be exploiting this time?" he asked, with his usual biting irony, thrusting his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"Exploiting? Ah, but that is harsh, even coming from you, Georg, and hardly fair at all! They will be singing next to Austria's greatest musicians, in the same stage where the Vienna Philharmonic will perform, where the Great Toscanini will be conducting… They will be world famous before the year is over! "

But Georg was adamant. "As I said – _exploiting_."

Max kept mumbling. "In this case, I don't think I'll even have to make too much effort to get some of that fame and that money to myself too," he added, scratching his moustache. "Yes, they are just too good."

"Oh, are they?" said Georg, mockingly.

"Who are they?" one of the children asked, for the first time. It was the eldest boy – Friedrich.

"The Saint Ignatius Choir?" she interrupted, choosing her words carefully, knowing that, as talented the singers in the church choir in question were, they could not be reason for the fire in Georg´s eyes. But she had decided to venture a guess, not only to keep things interesting but to keep Georg from throttling Max.

"Guess again!" Max chanted.

"Mmm... Let me see now." It was Georg´s turn to make a guess, just to taunt Max. Oh, she was certain it would be a wrong one too. She had seen him and Max playing that cat and mouse game before. She too had tried to play that game with Georg, and pitifully lost. Oh, his children were amused by whatever was going on, and a few giggles were heard now and then.

"Uh... the Klopmann Choir?" he asked, scratching his chin, slowly pacing towards the opposite side of the room.

"No, no, no, no, no," was Max vehement denial.

"No?" Georg still threaded carefully, apparently enjoying himself immensely.

"No, no."

"Who else could have possibly heard because you've been doing nothing for the past month except - uh - how was it that you said it? Enjoying my unexcelled wine cellar, and the superb cuisine at a reasonable price?"

"Tell us, uncle Max." Liesl chimed in, with barely contained curiosity.

"A singing group _all in one family_," was the exultant reply.

Georg had his back to her when Max made the announcement, but a lot could be told about his reaction. His shoulders visibly tensed, and he straightened, coming to a halt. Elsa had the distinct feeling that he was undoubtedly as surprised as she was, but, at the same time, he had been bracing himself for something entirely different. Whatever it was, he was completely recovered from what could have been a momentary confusion when he turned around to face Max.

"You'll _never_ guess, Georg," Max continued to taunt him.

"What a _charming_ idea!" Georg exclaimed suavely. "Uh - whose family?"

"Yours," Max stated, plainly and simply, while "oh"´s and "ah"´s were heard from the children surrounding them all. Naturally they loved the idea. Even the little Fräulein´s face glowed in the most absurd manner at the thought, her interest picked again. Unable to help herself, she walked forward to rejoin her charges, stepping into their circle.

Georg, however, was not amused. In fact, he all but _grunted._

"Hah!"

"They'll be the talk of the festival."

"Mmmm!"

"_Is it me, or Georg is at a loss for words?_" she mused.

If he was, it would not last very long. He studied Max with an amused grin and started laughing, his boyish dimples in full display.

"Well, now, what's so funny?" Max asked, nonchalantly – obviously, those dimples did not do anything for him, Elsa thought, amusedly.

"You are, Max. You're expensive... but very funny", he said, patting Max's cheek.

The children laughed, as they all followed the Captain, who was hastily crossing the door to the drawing room.

"But you heard them. They'll be a sensation. Fit for a concert hall! They'll have Vienna at their feet. Not only Vienna – Paris, New York!"

The girls squealed when they heard the words Paris and New York – even the second one, Louisa, who, not unlike her father, was not easily impressed by anything. Behind the girls, the Fräulein´s jaw simply dropped. It would be nine against one – two if she counted herself standing by Georg´s side. The odds were against them, but she knew that Georg would give in. What she could do to help was to try to provide Georg with a diplomatic escape.

"Oh dear Max, now you are exaggerating!" she interjected. "After all, you may be a very Machiavellian impresario, but let us face it, you don't know much about music. You always had to rely on someone else in the end. When it comes to music, Georg can be and absolutely insufferable critic! You should listen to him first, you know."

That finally brought some of Georg´s attention back to her. There was admiration even gratitude. There was something else too, and she took advantage of it.

"Now, darling, don't look at me like that. I know you from your old days, and I remember on more than one occasion how your quick temper flared whenever you hit a wrong note in the piano!"

"Now _you_ are the one who is exaggerating, Elsa!" Georg exclaimed, bowing to her. "When have I ever hit a wrong note?" he teased.

"As I said – _insufferable_!" she smiled flirtatiously back to him. He responded to her light flirting with the same kind of appraising glance he had bestowed upon the governess earlier. Finally she had his attention back to where it belonged!

Max looked at them and rolled his eyes. "Stop it, both of you. We have more important matters to deal with now. I must admit that they do need some… brushing up, but they will be just fine," he continued, not very pleased because the subject of their conversation shifted to less profitable matters. "They are like seven rough diamonds, just waiting to be polished!"

Georg turned serious again – his tone was biting and sarcastic when he spoke. "Spare me your same old metaphors, Max. The answer is still _no_."

"Why not? It's a wonderful idea! Fresh, original! And their gov…"

"Max, you really do now know when to stop, do you? My children do not sing in public," he added, emphatically, just before he started pouring himself a dose of brandy.

"Well, you can't blame me for trying," said Max, talking almost to himself.

"I suppose not," Georg shrugged. "You can't help being who you are, can you? I most certainly cannot."

Georg searched her gaze again – and grinned. He looked tired and weary, but his smile was genuinely. She knew that smile – she had seen it in his lips before, in the old days, before any governesses disrupted their lives. Silently, and in his own, brooding way, he was apologizing to her, and she accepted the apology, smiling back.

"_Well,_" she thought. "_Maybe things are not bad as they seem._"

Unluckily, her peace of mind would not last for longer than one minute. The governess was about to make another disruption.

------------------------------------

The atmosphere was now heavily charged. Disappointment was etched in the children's face. Georg tried to control his annoyance, while he swirled the brandy in his glass.

So, in spite of all indication on the contrary, Max had not included Fräulein Maria in his new theatrical discovery after all. That meant she would not become the next singing sensation of the Vienna Staatsoper. She could not tour the world glamorously and capture the attention of crowned heads. That meant she would eventually return to her sacred Abbey and turn into a modern version of a Roman vestal!

Why the devil should he even _care_?

But there as still a part of him that resented Max for not including her, who was, after all, the one responsible for the evening's success. He had a very strict sense of justice, and it seemed that Max had been terribly unfair, even disrespectful to Fräulein Maria.

Nonetheless, he had included _the children_ in his delusional plans and that had been even worse. It was enough to distract him from everything else, even the governess and any bad decisions she was about to make concerning her future.

_His children! _

Georg knew there were more than enough members of the old aristocracy that disapproved the fact that he still worked, albeit discreetly, when he did not need to. He had Agathe´s inheritance safely kept in an English bank, he had his own inheritance scattered in banks all over Europe. Most of his acquaintances did not understand why he didn't simply sit back and relax, living like a _bon vivant,_ enjoying everything money had to offer. He had never accepted the idea of living an idle life – he tried it for a short time, but had felt utterly useless and it had only helped him to sink deeper into his depression. However, that did not mean that he would even _consider_ the idea of his children performing on a stage public, even if Mozart himself rose from the dead to accompany them in the piano! It was _déclassé,_ undignified, unworthy of the von Trapp lineage.

What he needed to do was to forget all this nonsense and focus on Elsa again, he thought, disgruntled. That was what he had been trying to do ever since the moment he almost gave in to the temptation of offering his arms to his governess, leaving Elsa behind, hopelessly and unforgivably alone.

Worldly, sophisticated, beautiful, _perfect _Elsa – his savior.

_Elsa_, who still looked uncomfortable, in spite of his weak attempts to offer her some kind of silent reassurance, and as horrified by Max's idea as he was. He needed to remind himself of all the reasons why he had brought her there, to meet the children. He would be dishonest with himself if he said he loved her, because he did _not_ - yet. However, if there was one thing he was certain of was the he could love her, and he would, not only because she deserved that from him, but because it was the right thing to do. Yet, if nothing else, he was being disrespectful to the woman he practically vowed he would love by practically ignoring her. The truth was that he had neglected her for too long now.

A crystal clear voice, low and even, spoke amidst the chaos created by Max's outrageous suggestion.

"Walther von der Vogelweide was a nobleman too, and he sang for a lot of people…" (2) The candid voice trailed away, as absolute silence fell on the room.

The governess!

Only her to bring his mind from certainty to a state of absolute confusion again, with only half a dozen words!

Of course it did not matter that she had broken the sacred, unwritten rule of "_not speaking unless spoken too_" which applied to every servant of every aristocratic household. Except that she had broken that same rule too many times now for him to care to say something about it. There she was, contradicting again – another old rule she simply refused to abide to. It was only natural that she would take the children's side – that was what why she was in his house after all, because of the children! "_God's errand_" for her, as he heard her saying before. Her loyalty to them had always been unquestionable, he would never doubt it. And her loyal charges seemed to be completely charmed by Max's flattery. But this absurd, pathological need of her to interfere with everything in the most inappropriate manner could be irritating in times like these!

The impertinence of it!

She may find the idea of his seven children in the limelight glamorous – he, on the other hand, found it dreadful. And to think that he had come close to chastising Max for ignoring her contribution to the children's musical accomplishments! He turned to her with a sharp, cautionary glance, and found her looking straight at him, her eyes wide. He was not quite expecting that - it was disconcerting for a moment. There was a worried expression in her face, and she biting her lower lip, but she did not avert her gaze.

"_Yes, Fräulein – you and your running mouth again. You may torture that lower lip of yours until it bleeds, but _I do not like this_!"_

Disapproval did not come from him only. Elsa was looking at Fräulein Maria like if she were a bug she wanted to crush with her high heel shoes. His other guest, on the other hand, was gloating.

"Brava, Fräulein!" Max applauded. Then turning to him, "I knew she would not let you off so easily, old man," he said – only to clear his throat when he received a mighty scowl from him in response.

"_All, right, Fräulein. If you wish to start another debate, be ready for it!"_

He firmly set his crystal glass next to the decanter. Next, he started pacing around her, slowly. He knew it was a little something that intimidated her, and he used that knowledge to his advantage. The children, seeing their father in a dangerous mood, gathered together in a corner, to watch the development of what would be another battle between the Captain and the governess.

"Walther von der Vogelweide?" he savored the name slowly, with exquisite suaveness.

"Yes. The one and only," she replied evenly. "He is a favorite of the children, you should know that!"

"Yes, I know that," he sneered at her vaguely accusatory tone, feeling the heavy, achingly familiar pang of angst deep in his chest. The medieval poet and singer was indeed a favorite, not exactly of the children, but of their _mother_, who was hopelessly attracted by his romantic songs about courtly love. Only his three eldest his children would remember who the man was.

He wondered how much the other four children remembered about their mother nowadays… which led him to wonder how much Maria had been revealing about Agathe, not only by his sons and daughters, but by the other members of the household as well. For some reason, the idea bothered him, although he did not waste a second to think about the reason why. Instead, he chose to ignore her last remark.

"_The _Walther von der Vogelweide who died more than _seven hundred years_ ago?" he asked, scathingly. She gulped, and he grinned in satisfaction.

"A very unconvincing argument, don't you think, Fräulein? Had you picked a more recent example I may even concede you a fleeting victory, but instead, you chose someone who was already reduced to nothing but dust by the time Bach was born," his voice raised in the end, but she did not even flinch. Instead, she crossed her arms and faced him, challengingly. "His lineage has been extinct for centuries," he finished indifferently, picking up his glass of brandy again.

With his eyes, he dared her to confront him again. Naturally, she opened her mouth to retort, but he would not allow her an opportunity to do so. Under the intensity of his gaze, a faint blush tinted her cheeks, and she looked away, towards the children, uttering a low, self-deprecatory moan under her breath. He continued his lecture, enjoying her defeat immensely.

"The _von Trapp_ lineage, on the other hand, is very much alive and it will be for a long time," he slowly scanned his eyes over each one of his seven children, proudly. "We have an honorable place in history and I will not approve…"

His eyes narrowed – she wasn't even listening to him anymore. She was staring fixedly, not at the children, but to a spot to the right of the little group they formed. More precisely, her gaze was drawn by her old guitar, which she had carelessly left against a wall the day before. "Fräulein?"

Her entire face had changed - it lit up, giving her the look of someone who just had an idea to rescue them from that awkward situation.

"_What are you up to now?_" he mused, his fingers tightening around the rim of the glass he still had in his hands.

Suddenly, she hurried to the center of the room, towards where the children were gathered. She clasped her hands to call their attention.

"Children, who shall we hear from next?"

She sounded absurdly cheerful and excited. He quickly looked at Max and Elsa, but they seemed as puzzled by the little Fräulein´s peculiar behavior as he was. Never had any of them seen her run from a confrontation with him before – himself included. The Baroness was more than just puzzled – she did not look particularly pleased.

The children huddled around their governess. Marta and Gretl jumped up and down with excitement, while the boys only looked at each other, uncertainly. Liesl leaned forward and whispered something in her ear, and she bent down slightly to listen to what the children were saying.

"Who? _Really?_" Maria squealed. "_Nooooo_!"

"Yes. Yes."

"You know this could get me into trouble again," the Fräulein whispered back to them, but loud enough so that he heard her.

"Go ahead," Friedrich encouraged.

Rolling his eyes, he started pouring himself some more cognac. When he looked at the scene again, Fräulein Maria was picking up her guitar and looking uncertainly at the children who kept nodding vigorously. Taking a deep breath for courage, she cleared her throat and walked over to _him_, holding out the guitar, her arms outstretched.

"The vote is unanimous. _You_, Captain."

Behind him, he heard Elsa's discreet little snort, and Max's not so discreet chuckle.

"Me? I don't understand."

She could not possibly be considering… could she? Although it had been the children's idea, she had caught him completely off guard by humoring them.

"Please." She held out the guitar to him. He looked at his sons and daughters, who had a hopeful look in their faces.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

There – not one, but seven "_no_"´s – one for each one of the children. That should suffice. Nevertheless, maybe he should have added an eighth "_no_" exclusively for their Fräulein, because it had _not_ been enough.

"We sang for you, father. Now you sing for us!" It was Marta, the most shy of all his children, who surprised him with that fine example of unbreakable logic. At least one of his children had inherited the von Trapp innate sense of justice, he noted, with an inward, proud smile.

"I'm told that a long time ago you were quite good," Fräulein Maria insisted, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, her arms outstretched, holding out the old, worn out guitar. Well, if that was her idea of a revenge, she was being just… _brilliant_!

"O-ho, I am sure you've been told many things about me Fräulein, but…"

"But?"

"Well, that was a very, very, very long time ago."

"I remember, Father," he heard one of the children saying, but was much too distraught to notice which one of them.

She held out the guitar to him again, smiling guilelessly, but with that same hint of mischief.

"Play us something we know." It was Friedrich who insisted this time.

His eyes wandered thoughtfully around the room, seeing everything and everyone, focusing on nothing. He closed them for a moment, opened them again. Oh, how tempted he had been, to take the easy way out, as he had done so many times in the past few years in a few rare, similar situations. Only two months ago, if faced with the same dilemma, he would have simply have walked away, turning his back to his on children, crushing them – and himself in the process. There was nothing that could stop him, he owed no one any explanation. He was the master of his home, the master of his own will.

"Oh, please, Father!" Brigitta begged.

"Please," spoke another voice – Fräulein Maria's.

So_ she_ too wanted to hear him.

The thought gave him pause. She wanted to know if the stories he was now sure his children had fed her over the past few weeks were any true at all. He promptly realized that he too wanted to sing for _her_, wanted to show her what he was capable of, other than bellowing orders around the house and act like a martinet. She had once openly doubted his love for the children, and he wanted her to know a little bit of the man he once had been, a man capable of loving. He knew he should be able to accomplish that with music. Because if he could show her that, maybe she would know it all had been her doing, and she would think twice before wasting her life as a cloistered nun.

"Well…" He smiled at the children affectionately, almost shyly. Reluctantly, he took the guitar from her hands, hearing her short intake of breath when he abruptly relieved her of the weight of the instrument, bracing himself for the flood of memories that he knew it was coming.

With the corner of his eye, he saw Fräulein Maria, gesturing for the children to sit on the floor, with an anxious look in her face. Once they were settled, she fled, the blue dress fluttering around her legs, finally leaning leaned against the opposite wall behind the couch where Max and Elsa were seated.

He strummed a few chords.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he heard Elsa ask Max.

"What?"

"To bring along my harmonica."

He heard Max's low chuckle, and he would have done the same, if he wasn't so caught up in what it was doing. The first musical sounds he had produced in three tears reached his years. Memories came with it, as expected, and they did _hurt_ – but not as much as he expected they would.

The guitar would never have been his first choice. If the grand piano was still around, that is where he would be now – that was his instrument, the one in which he was trained. He had never learned to play the guitar quite as well. However, he missed music when he was away for long months, and a guitar was small enough to be carried inside his submarines. He taught himself to play a little bit, sometimes with the help of one of his sailors. Being a perfectionist, he practiced extensively, sometimes until his fingers bled. He succeeded well enough not to embarrass himself and to be able to accompany some of his favorite Austrian tunes when he was at sea, or even with Agathe and the children during their many hiking trips to the mountains.

He tried the first song that came to his mind.

_"Edelweiss…"_

His voice sounded hoarse, raspy to his ears at first, but it took only half a verse for him to gain enough confidence to continue.

"…_edelweiss  
Every morning you greet me  
Small and white, clean and bright…_"

No, whoever wrote those words could not have had only a flower in mind. It had to be about more, so much more. It was funny how he had never been fully aware of the double meaning until now.

_  
_"_You look _happy_ to meet me…"_

Having sung those words, he could not help it – his eyes wandered to the governess, leaning against the wall. He held her gaze, steadily, wondering why on earth the first verses of the lyrics fit her almost perfectly. Her smile broadened when he shrugged apologetically, although it did not look to him that his untrained voice was offending her educated ears, not at all.

She was staring at him, fascinated. Never before she had looked at him so openly before. There was a look of unashamed admiration in her eyes, such forthright innocence that was bewildering to him. It made him ache… but for what? Something elusive, yet just beyond his grasp. Something beyond the mere physical attraction he could not deny feeling for her. Something that was strong enough not to let the memories of his old, happier days to intrude again.

_"Blossom of snow, may you bloom and grow  
Bloom and grow forever  
Edelweiss, edelweiss  
Bless my homeland forever."_

Perhaps it was the thought of his homeland that made him look at the one woman he knew shared his political ideas and concerns about the future of Austria. Elsa was smiling eagerly at him. He nodded to Liesl before starting another refrain and after they sang a brief duet, he finished the song, singing solo again.

"_Blossom of snow, may you bloom and grow  
Bloom and grow forever  
Edelweiss, edelweiss  
Bless my homeland forever."_

Gazing at Maria, he grinned and shrugged modestly. If he was waiting for a round of applause, he did not get any. He was not disappointed. His audience seemed to be in awe – especially _her_.

God help him, he tried to look away from her, but he could not. Whenever he succeeded, he would see that blue haze against the wall, and even if his eyes were pointed to another direction, that was where all his attention would be centered. Her eyes seemed to be irrevocably linked to his, his own a prisoner of her pure blue gaze. He rested chin in his hands on top of the guitar handle, and leaned forward slightly. She still would not look away. He lowered his eyes for a moment, and she was still there, unmoving, looking at him.

"Any time you say the word, Georg, you can be part of my new act!" Max broke the spell. "_The Von Trapp Family Singers_."

He was still much too distracted to be angry at Max now, so he merely smiled, lowering his eyes to the guitar still in his hands.

"I have a wonderful idea, Georg. Let's _really_ fill this house with music," Elsa suggested. "You must give a grand and glorious party for me while I'm here."

The children gasped with delight. Their little Fräulein still had not moved from her secluded spot.

"A party?" he echoed, distractedly.

"Yes, yes, Father, please! Oh, Father, please."

"Yes, I think it's high time I met all your friends here in  
Salzburg, and they met me. Don't you agree?"

Elsa had pleaded with him before, but he had always firmly refused. To let her drag him to every social event in Vienna was one thing, but Salzburg... Salzburg had always been his refuge, where he could brood away in peace. Now he saw no reason to continue to live such a reclusive life, not anymore. On the contrary. It was actually a good idea, to present his "_new family_" to society. Elsa now needed to be seen as his potential bride. Austria needed to know that Captain von Trapp was alive and well.

"I see what you mean," he purred. He raised his eyes to the little Fräulein again, as if silently seeking her approval, but she was no longer there, having already left her hiding place.

"Children! It's time to go to bed," she announced, her voice unusually grave. He would never know until months later what had brought her back from her trance. Inexplicably, she avoided his gaze now. "Come now. Say good night."

The children stood up, and amidst disappointed moans, they obediently said their good nights… only to remember that their father had practically agreed to have a party in the house. They ended up dashing out of the room, beaming with excitement.

"Happy dreams father... if you say yes," said Louisa slyly, just before leaving. Gretl ran to catch up, then stopped and turned in the doorway.

"It will be my first party, Father!"

_---_

_A/N: (1) The description of the ceremony was largely inspired by the scene described in John Biggins´s book, A Sailor of Austria. (2) __Walther von der Vogelweide (c. 1170 - c. 1230) was a celebrated lyric poet and singer (Source – Wikipedia)._


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: I had such a great time writing this chapter - I miss those days when I did it! It is probably my favorite in the whole story, and I hope you like it too. My thanks to everybody who has been following this, here and in the forum, especially to those who helped me with feedbacks and reviews:-)_

_Disclaimers and acknowledgements: See previous chapters._

**Edelweiss**

**Chapter ****X**

_**---**_

"_**Old Austria was a very curious society, very prim in some respects and extremely licentious in others, but with very strict unwritten rules of behaviour. And while it was only expected that an unmarried officer should expend his vigour quite freely among actresses and shop-girls or even daughters of the liberal intelligentsia, pre-marital relations with a noblewoman to whom one was betrothed was a slightly different matter. Quite apart from the **__**lady's own honour, there was that of her family to be considered (…).**_**"**

_**John Biggins, A Sailor of Austria.**_

_**---**_

_**A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind.**_

**William Shakespeare**

_**---**_

**_Think ye by gazing on each other's eyes  
To multiply your lovely selves?__---_**

**Percy Bysshe Shelley**

**_Without warning_**_**  
**_**_as a whirlwind_**_**  
**_**_swoops on an oak_**_**  
**_**_Love shakes my heart._****_Sappho_**

---

"I stand by what I said before, that girl is lovely," said Max Detweiler, throwing himself in the nearest couch. "She is wonderful!"

He stole a quick glance at Baroness Schraeder, to make sure she could not listen to them. She had just excused herself and stepped outside, to the balcony, to have one of her cigarettes. It did not surprise him that Georg did not join her – he never did, in moments like this. The Captain had quit the habit because to his late wife, who was hopelessly allergic to tobacco. Nowadays, he did his best to avoid temptation at all costs.

"Oh yes, Elsa is wonderful, isn't she?" Georg agreed, distractedly, relaxing in the opposite chair, stretching his long legs before him, staring at the tip of his boots. "Everything I could possibly ask for in a woman. Sometimes I think I am luckiest man to have found her, after all that has happened."

"Yes, you are one lucky bloke. Elsa is marvelous, but it is not her I am talking about. I am talking about that vivacious slip of a girl in a blue dress that you insist upon calling your children's governess. Forget all about sending the gift back to Heaven – keep it to yourself!"

Georg looked at him, sharply.

"_Fräulein Maria?_"

"Who else?! She is a bit… outlandish, perhaps, and there is something refreshingly wild about her. Whatever it is, the girl managed to bring a delightful amount of chaos into your life without even trying. I had no idea how badly you needed that until I saw it with my own eyes."

"Hah ha! She _is_ indeed my children's governess, why should I call her anything else?"

"As a mere dispassionate observer of tonight's events, you could call her a number of things by now other than simply your governess, Georg!" He chuckled.

"What _exactly_ are you insinuating, Max?"

He ignored Georg´s warning tone and continued with his musings.

"That song you sang for her, for instance – _Edelweiss._"

"I did not sing it for _her_, I sang it for the children," Georg said briskly. His scowl turned darker when Max cast him a disbelieving glance.

"It was oddly appropriate for your Fräulein – not to mention to you as well," he chanted. "So many have lost their heads trying to pluck the silly little flower from the edge of an Alpine ravine where it usually grows. She is a little bit like the Edelweiss, isn't she? White, clean, bright… and yet when you try to _pluck_ her you end up risking too much, maybe loosing yourself. Don't try to tell me that the double meaning of the song was entirely lost to you, Georg!"

"Max, I never knew there was such a shockingly bad poet hidden somewhere inside you! This is nauseous. I also cannot believe you are trying to convince me to discuss the symbolism behind the simplest of all Austrian folk song and compare it to the idiosyncrasies of a governess! Now, if your final intention is to lead me back to that absurd idea of my family singing in the _Festspiele_ again, then I must advise you to stop now. It will not do!"

"No, no, no! This has nothing to do with the Festival. But it was fun!"

"Then I don't see why, apart from her musical talent, she may be of any interest to you at all," he said dispassionately, the speed of his retort being the only indication of a certain restlessness. Max knew him only too well not to be aware of that.

Max's opinion concerning Fräulein Maria did not differ to Elsa's. He did not completely understand the reason for the attraction. But where Elsa was a little blinded by a healthy dose of jealousy, he was not. The governess was certainly not the type of woman who would make a man instantly fall "_in lust_" with her, not at first sight. Her near intimidating wholesomeness reminded Max of his own mother - as the type of woman who would not be physically attractive to a man unless he was in love with her. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at his best friend.

"Come on, Georg, you are as smitten as I am!"

"_Smitten? You? _In spite of your ridiculous poetic speech earlier, don't see why my governess should have that effect on you, of all people! I think the two former Frau Detweiler´s are a living proof of that."

"That is hardly fair, to bring my old girls into this!" Georg grinned at him, offering a mock toast. "Fine, I am not smitten, I _intrigued_. _You_, on the other hand…"

"My opinion about her hardly matters at all, not to you, not to her, and most certainly _not to me_," said Georg, in his best cool _hauteur_.

"Mmmm…" Herr Detweiler was toying with his moustache, pensively. "It would matter to Elsa!"

"Max," he warned. "Sometimes I think _you_ are the one playing with fire! (1) I must advise you – _do not toy with us_. The role of a puppet master does not suit you."

"Oh, but it suited that young lady beautifully, didn't it?"

"All right, all right. I suppose she is…," Georg shook his head, as if picking his next words carefully, "… _charming_, in her own peculiar way. But she is too naïve for her own good, and that could be her downfall," he added, emphatically. What followed was a most impassionate speech. "As a matter of fact, she might be safer inside a convent than anywhere else. She would be nothing but trouble in the outside world. She can't tell a lie, she lacks the most basic social skills and she is kind even to the most annoying people – you, for instance." He paused. "I am responsible for her well being at the moment. I would not want her to stray from her path. The Reverend Mother would never forgive me."

"Unless, perhaps, you were the one to lead her astray. The one to pluck the little Edelweiss from the edge of the cliff…" Georg fired him a deadly look. "Forget I said that. But I must say that I detect a little contradiction here, my dear friend."

"I _never_ contradict myself."

Max smiled. "For someone that claims to have no opinion about a mere governess, you seem to have done a lot of thinking about the girl in question," he taunted. "We spent the last ten minutes talking about nothing but _her_ and unless I am sorely mistaken, we'll be spending the next ten minutes doing exactly the same thing."

"I didn't say I had no opinion about her, did I? I said that it did not matter to anyone. More brandy?" Georg asked hastily, getting up to help himself to another glass. Max laughed. His friend was taken aback, having been caught in a contradiction, and his discomfort was obvious.

"Is it so wrong to be innocent?" Max challenged him further. "Does everyone in the world have to be a hard-headed realist? A grunt was Georg´s only response. "Leave the Edelweiss where it belongs, aim for the cultivated orchids. They may be not be very easy to deal with, but at least you do not risk anything when you get to close to them! As for the Edelweiss, it will remain in peace, happy and _untouched_."

His melodramatic speech was rewarded by a bout of Georg´s ironic laughter. "Max, please do mankind a favour and never write a book! Your attempts at producing poetical images are atrocious!"

"Oh, just humor me, Georg. I am just enjoying myself at your expense, as I usually do." Georg´s laughter increased.

"Well, it is good that your Fräulein can afford to be that way and live happily. At least she does look happy most of the time," he continued.

"O-ho, yes. Absurdly so," his eyes shinning with mirth. "I am sure she will live happily ever after in her fairy tale world – as long as she keeps herself from attracting unwanted attention and remain unscathed."

"You see what I meant about being a hard-headed realist? You are suspicious like a fox, and it does not help you at all."

"Hah!"

"By the way, you are right about the "_being kind to the most annoying people_" part. I had the most interesting conversation with the idiosyncratic little nun a couple of weeks ago."

"You did?" Georg stopped cold, eyeing him curiously. The mirth in his eyes died, being replaced with blatant suspicion. "What could you and Fräulein Maria possibly have to talk about? You were not by any chance putting any ideas into her head about… singing in public, are you?"

"You may rest your weapons, Georg. My little chat with that lovely girl happened weeks ago, before I even knew she could sing."

"Hmmm," Georg muttered, taking a seat again.

"I always thought it was funny – this thing between nuns and roses. In every convent, there seems to be a rose garden. It seems that the silly flowers respond to those women. Fräulein Maria, for instance."

"Roses? Again, it is the good old symbolism, I suppose. And she is _not_ a nun."

Once again, the Captain much too quick and assertive in his retort. Max could not help himself but provoking him further.

"No, she most definitely is not, which maybe explains why you were staring at her in a most… _secular_ manner just now…"

"Secular?"

"You know. _Profane_."

Georg´s temper flared. "Damn you, Max! Let us not start this again. I was merely admiring her – uh – _vocal range_."

"She was not singing, Georg. You were," he observed, ironically, giving Georg a dose of his own remedy.

"What is this talk about flowers? First Edelweiss, and now roses and nuns? What does it have to do with the chitchat you had with her?"

"Well, I was taking a stroll in Agathe´s rose garden and she was there, tending to…"

"What was she doing in the rose garden?" he asked rapidly. "She had no business being there."

"Why? Because it was Agathe´s?" he prodded. "You should go and see it one of these days; your governess is slowly restoring its full glory."

"I have seen it. Every morning, from the balcony in my bedroom. I only did not know it was _her_ work, although I could have guessed. I must speak to her about that, she has other more important duties to fulfill in this household, and gardening is not one of them. What did you talk about?"

"She told me how she ended up in Nonnberg Abbey."

"Why would she tell you that? She never told _me_!"

Well, it seemed to Max he had just stung the Captain's pride. There was more than that, though. Did he just detect a vague, but absurd, note of _jealousy_ in his friend's passionate demeanor? Was the _Ritter_ von Trapp jealous of Max Detweiler? Oh, Elsa would have a field day if she heard that one. "_Would have_", if she was the woman Georg was jealous of, that is!

"Because I asked her!" was Max's unwavering response.

"Ah ha! So?"

"So, Georg, you never miss a chance to bark and scold the girl. The poor darling must think you hate her. I just I used a different approach, that was all."

That was not entirely true, but he itched to see Georg´s reaction.

"A different approach for _what_? What were your intentions towards my governess?"

"Are you interrogating me, Captain?"

"Oh yes, I am!"

"_And that, ladies and gentlemen, proves my theory,_" Max thought, amusedly. "_Captain Georg von Trapp is _jealous. _He is jealous of me, Max Detweiler, the most _un_legendary lover of all Austria. Oh, this is so much fun! What a marvelous, unique experience for him! Sweet Agathe never gave him much cause to be jealous simply because she never had eyes for another man other than him. But the little Fräulein, with her dangerous naïveté is an entirely different matter – she could end up asking for more male attention than she ever intended. Interesting – very, very interesting."_

"What _precisely_ did she tell you, Max?" Georg questioned, leaning forward in his chair, his eyes narrowing him into slits, causing him to remember the days he served under his command in the Navy.

"Oooohhh, nothing much. She is not a spy of the Third Reich, if that is what you worried about."

As usual, any mention of the Nazi threat had the power to anger Georg beyond belief. "Max, if that is your idea of a joke, then it is one of appallingly bad taste," he gritted.

"All she said was that she boarded a train to Salzburg with the last money she had in her pocket, thinking that the Rome of the North was just the right place for her to find a convent. She arrived at the station, asked a policeman where the nearest one was and he pointed her to the onion shaped tower. She run up the 144 steps of the _Nonnberg Stiege_, rang the bell and asked to see _the boss_."

Georg´s eyebrows raised, questioningly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "The boss?"

"The Reverend Mother. According to her, she informed plainly and simply – "_I want to be a nun here!_" And that was it. That is all she told me."

"I see." Georg was lost in his thoughts for a few moments. "She must have made quite an impression on them because _no one_ rings that bell and is ushered to see the Mother Abbess right away without questions asked. I know how it works, I've been there with my wife once or twice."

"Well, the little Fräulein did make quite an impression on _you_!"

"She does make an impression on everybody, doesn't she?" Georg chuckled. "God knows that if anyone told me six months ago I would be eagerly applauding a song about two goats in love, I would… No, I haven't the foggiest idea of what I would do. What was on your mind when you bought those marionettes?"

"I thought they were _whimsical._ And the song was about lonely goatherds in love, not goats!"

"Mmmm." Georg brooded. "Something just does not add up."

"What doesn't add up, Georg? The goats?"

"No, not the goats. You want me to believe that… that _tomboy_ marched into one of the most respected convents in Europe and demanded to see their Reverend Mother."

"What is so strange about that?"

"Max I know how such things work. As strange as it may seem, there are similarities between the Navy and a Benedictine Abbey, and that was precisely why I went to one to supply me a governess. There is a chain of command that needs to be followed at all times. I did not invade the Imperial Palace in Vienna to see the Emperor and demand him a post in his Navy. I had to suffer through the Fiume Naval Academy first, where one was not admitted without the highest possible recommendations. After that, I did not simply sign up to be a submarine Captain. It was a long and careful process, and, quite frankly, not for everyone. You know as well as I do that not every seaman is able to stand the hardships involved in navigating under the water. _You_ could not."

"What does your naval career have anything to do with your little Fräulein?"

"Stop calling her "_my little Fräulein_," will you?" Georg flared. "I am only saying that I don't believe any mountain girl may simply sign up to be a nun in Nonnberg Abbey. Giving your life to a higher purpose, whatever that purpose may be, God or country, arduous work and one must be fully prepared for it."

"I am ahead of you, my friend. I asked her. Apparently, she is still "_on trial_" as a postulant, and after that, there is the novitiate."

"Hah! So she is still… _on trial_? That means she may… _fail_."

Georg´s tone was enigmatic, but before he could prod him further about it, Elsa returned from the balcony.

"Oh, there you are, my darlings," he said, smiling up to her, elegantly striding into the room. He cursed inwardly, wondering how much Elsa heard of their conversation. Of course he had a delightful time provoking Georg, but he did not want Elsa to be upset by it.

"What were you gentlemen talking about so secretively – and passionately?" she asked, walking towards Georg and sitting daintily next to him, carefully arranging the longs skirts of her dress around her.

"What else could we be talking about, Elsa? A lady, of course," he said, trying to set her mind at ease.

"Oh Max, I _am_ flattered," she teased him, melodiously.

"Who said I meant you?" he jested.

"Don't be cruel, darling, it does not suit you. Is there another _lady_ in the house?"

None of the men dared to answer the question. Georg´s glower turned murderous.

He did not mean to be cruel to Elsa, but her swift entrance had put him a bad mood. All his senses told him that Georg was about to have some kind of epiphany. The question that followed, however, clearly indicated that she too knew – not merely sensed – only too well what was going on and now was speculating about what she could possibly do about it.

"_Well,_" he thought. "_At least I have given him enough for another night or two of insomnia_!"

"It looks like you got your wish, my lady," Georg said, turning on all of his charm and firing it against the _lady_ next to him, placing an arm around her shoulders, and squeezing gently. Elsa would be horrified if she knew that she literally melted under the Captain's gaze. She was very close to embarrassing herself. "You'll have your grand and glorious party after all. I'm out numbered. I've been defeated."

"Thank you, Georg," she said, blowing him a kiss.

"The trouble is, apart from the family members, I won't know _whom_ to invite. These days it's difficult for an Austrian to know his friends from his enemies…" Georg scratched his head.

"We'll leave all the details about the guest list to you, if that is what you want."

"It's all right, I'll manage. It will be interesting. I'll just think of it as a "_masquerade party_" my enemies disguised as my friends…"

"What fun! At midnight, everyone will take off their face and Cinderella will run leaving her slipper behind… Oh wait, that is another story! Come on Max, let's start working out the details! Don't worry Georg, we want nothing very fancy. Just something lavish."

"_That_ was what I was afraid of!" Georg mocked.

"Come, Max, let's go to bed and leave the Captain to brood in peace," Elsa said happily, getting up and extending him her hand, her diamond ring flashing. He seized it and kissed it, with mock, exaggerated passion, seeing the small, playful gesture as another opportunity to provoke Georg again.

"Max," she laughed.

"Darling! I didn't know you cared," he replied, effusively.

"You in the East wing, I in the West wing, of course."

Looking at Georg, he feigned a disconsolate growl. But the Captain was hardly bothered by their light flirting. He was far away, lost in his thoughts again, immersed in some sort of enigmatic reverie. _Brooding,_ as Elsa had just implied.

"_Yet, ten minutes ago he almost had my neck for showing a little too much interest in the little Fräulein,_" he thought. "_Now I make an obvious innuendo and he does not even flinch!"_

"Elsa, darling, would you mind staying for another minute or two?" asked Georg, unexpectedly.

Max was about to warn him politely that it was his duty as a chaperon not to leave them alone, especially when everybody else in the house appeared to have retired, but one look from Elsa silenced him.

"_All right, my dear. But just make sure you tell me everything about it tomorrow. Every teensy, weensy, disgusting little detail!"_

----------------------------------------------------

"Elsa, we need to talk," Georg said, as soon as the sound of Max footsteps could no longer be heard. His mind was racing, but he kept a firm control on his thoughts – at least he tried to. He could not allow them to intrude now, _not_ between him and Elsa.

"Talk? Darling, I am crushed. When you sent Max away, I was hoping that you wanted to finish what we started in Vienna last weekend," she winked.

"O-ho!"

"Tempted?"

Truthfully, he was.

However, not by the stunning woman facing him with a blatant invitation in her eyes. As much as he would have to feel that way by her offer, he was not. Sadly, there was nothing about her, about her lithe figure or her clever mind that tantalized his senses. His senses were stirred this evening, all five of them, and a few others he could not allow his thoughts to linger on, but not by Elsa von Schraeder.

Naturally, being the epitome of a gentleman, the last thing he would do now would be to say something to offend Elsa. If he told her the truth, her female pride would be crushed, and she did not deserve that from him. At least nor because of a condition he hoped would be temporary. Instead, he resorted to giving her the same old explanation – his sense of propriety and decorum. His conscience would be appeased by the fact that it would not be entirely a lie.

"Tempting as the offer might be, you know as well as I do that - we can't," he said, as softly and tenderly as he could manage.

Strangely enough, she did not look disappointed.

"_She knows the rules too,"_ he considered. There was a high price to be paid for such kind of behavior and neither of them was willing to run the risk. While in Vienna there had been no eyes watching them, the same could hardly be said about Aigen-bei-Salzburg. If he took Elsa to his bed, the whole town would know by the next morning.

"Of course we can't, but you can't blame a lady for trying, can you?" He shook his head. "I can't help but think that your little nun would shocked beyond belief if she heard about us tempted to commit the ultimate sin under the same roof of his children…"

His smile died instantly. Why the devil did she have to mention the governess in a time like this? He realized only too late that he had asked the question aloud, and that Elsa had paled under his cutting tone.

"I am sorry," he apologized instantly. "You are right, of course. I must be more tired that I realized I was."

"You are. Why else would you allow such small things to rile your temper? Max pestering you about allowing your family to sing in public must not have helped at all."

"No, it most certainly did not!"

"Naturally. And now you have careless little me trying to seduce you! All this must have been too much for you, thinking about the honorable von Trapp family name destroyed because of singing goats, a nun and a Viennese socialite!"

He could not help but laugh at her unexpected sense of humor.

"Make no mistake, darling. Under any other circumstance, I would be more than happy to oblige you. The other day, in Vienna, for instance. I must confess that if Max had not made his inconvenient appearance, I would have thrown caution to the wind and…" he winked.

"Well, that makes me feel a lot better," she murmured.

"That is what I was aiming for," he said softly.

"Well, if we will not scandalize Austria by having a night of unbridled passion, why don't you go sleep instead?" He grinned mischievously at her. "And try not to fret too much about the party. You can leave everything to me and Max – apart from the guest list, of course. You are terribly weary, and, as for myself, I do have a headache, and frankly, only to think about all the work I'll have to do in the morning!"

"Not before I say what I have to say to you. It's important."

He got up from his chair and walked towards her. "Elsa, I owe you an apology."

"Why? What terrible thing have you done to me, Georg?"

"Really terrible." He caressed her cheek lightly. "I'm afraid I've been - neglecting you. There is too much happening, too many changes. I've been… _distracted_."

"There is no need to apologize for that, darling." She took his hand and kissed it. "It is obvious that the little Fräulein…"

"It's not the governess, Elsa," he retorted quickly. "It's everything else. The children, the Germans… _Everything_!" He placed both hands on her shoulders. "But I have it all under control now. I want to make it official."

She was rendered speechless. "Oh?"

"Elsa?" he smiled at her confusion. Frankly, he did not recall ever seeing Elsa in such a bewildered state. She recovered quickly, blinking her long eyelashes several times.

"Georg, darling, you should know that you cannot just say something like that to a woman and expect her to behave like you just offered her a spot of tea!"

He smirked. "That was what you wanted to hear all along, wasn't it? I know we never discussed this openly, but we both always knew where were headed. It is what everyone else expects of us as well."

"Yes, but… The party – is that when you are planning to announce it? Is that why you finally agreed to it?"

"It is one of the reasons, yes, although I don't think it is a good idea to… announce anything at the ball. My friends here don't know you quite well yet, it will seem all too sudden, especially in times like these. I want to avoid the small talk. It is, however, important that everybody and family see you by my side, as my hostess."

"That sounds reasonable."

"We'll wait a few days after that, then we can go to Vienna. I want to talk to your mother first."

"My mother? Oh Georg!"

"Why so surprised?"

"I knew you would be conventional about such things, I just had no idea how much. She will be thrilled, of course."

She kept looking at him, wonderingly. Leaning down, he planted a soft kiss in her mouth. Her lips moved sensuously under his. This time he did not hold himself back – he kissed her back, almost desperately, trying to reawaken the passion of their brief stolen moment in Vienna.

Nothing happened.

Elsa was breathless by the time they parted, but the kiss had left him cold and unmoved. Fortunately, if she realized that, she gave him no indication of it.

"Good night, darling," she whispered before leaving.

"_It should not be like this, Georg!_" he admonished himself, lost in his thoughts again. "_You just told a woman that you will be announcing your engagement to her in a few days. You want to marry, you know that she is the best choice, the most suitable wife and mother to your children you could possibly find. You should be barely containing your need for her, you should still have her in your arms. That is what you would do if she were…_"

_If she were…_

He felt blood draining from his face.

_Agathe._

For the first time since he had lost her, he tried to see her image in his mind, and nothing happened. All he saw was a blur.

"_Forgive me, my love,_" he whispered softly. He needed her forgiveness.

He had never felt so guilty before, not even after leaving the bed of the two women he had slept with after she died. He felt guilty because Agathe was no longer there where she now belonged, behind his eyelids, where he could see her whenever he wished. He blamed himself because she was gone. Another picture came to his mind to replace the gauzy image of his wife - this one vivid with every possible shade of blue under the sun, in every fold of her dress. He closed his eyes for the moment, savoring every detail of the delightful apparition.

"_I must be going mad. Elsa is right – I am tired. Tired and weary._"

He opened his eyes, allowing his gaze to wonder over the room, slowly. He saw the guitar, once more forgotten in the same place as it was before she touched it that night, the spot where she had stood alone, just looking at him while he sang. The room was just the same as it was before they came in less then two hours ago.

Oh, he fervently wished that tomorrow, when he woke up, he would be just as lucky, and everything would be back to normal again. He prayed it would be so. Yet, there was something in him that wanted that feeling to linger, at least until he closed his eyes in slumber. Tomorrow, he would no longer feel that way, but tonight he had the power to recapture memories of a time long gone, when another woman had made him feel like that.

Yes, _tomorrow_.

He walked outside, onto the terrace. His only intention was to lock the door, but moved towards the balustrade and stood there, looking out of the lake. When he turned to go back inside, he caught the flicker of a movement with the corner of his eye. Looking up, she saw Fräulein Maria gazing out into the night from her bedroom window. She had that same wistful look in her face she had before, when he was singing. Like before, he was unable to look away.

Hastily, he moved towards the door, not wishing her to see him.

It was too late.

"Captain!" he heard her whisper from above.

_--------------------------------_

_A/N: (__2) "Intermezzo I – Ignorance is bliss"._


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: My thanks to lovethisstuff, for helping me to come up with the idea for Maria´s musings. I had the best time trying to create her little fantasy in this chapter. Yes, this is the last one for this story - the end of a very long night for Georg and Maria. Thank you all who have followed me, offering me your reviews and criticism. Now, just have fun with it!_

_Disclaimers, acknowledgements: See previous chapters._

**Edelweiss**

**Chapter ****XI**

_**---**_

"_**The story goes that once, long, long ago, the Alps were far taller than they are these days. In those days, atop one of the snowcapped, precipice filled mountains lived an Ice Queen. She was said to be fair as snow and hauntingly beautiful. She was served by faithful gnomes, who lived with her on those slopes.**_

_**The Queen would sing melodiously and her sound would lure many a shepherd to lose his way in the mountains and come upon her abode. However beautiful she was, she had a flaw; her heart was frozen cold as if it were made of pure ice.**_

_**She would play with these hapless shepherds who sought her voice for a while. When she got tired of this play, the gnomes would toss the men off the cliffs to their death.**_

_**So she lived, through long ages alone except for poor companionship of her slaves.**_

_**It so happened that one of these shepherds, following her voice, entered into her abode. There was nothing different about him, this Man, nothing special, nothing noteworthy. But the Ice Queen steadily grew to love this man.**_

_**She would sing and he would sit awed beside her throne for hours and days to end. They had their love.**_

_**But the gnomes grew jealous, fearing that one day the Ice Queen may marry this mortal. Thus they conspired and threw him headlong into the valley below, where his heart burst asunder.**_

_**Seeing this, for the first and last time, the eyes of the Ice Queen warmed. Her heart melted a little and a single teardrop fell off her eternally beautiful sad cheeks.**_

_**It is this tear that has become the edelweiss , the most beautiful flower of the Alps."**_

**Unknown online source.**

_**---**_

_**Tell me, eyes, what 'tis ye're seeking;  
For ye're saying something sweet,  
Fit the ravish'd ear to greet.  
Eloquently, softly speaking.**_

**Johann Wolfgang von Goethe**

_**---**_

_**I everywhere am thinking  
Of thy blue eyes' sweet smile;  
A sea of blue thoughts is spreading  
Over my heart the while.**_

**Heinrich Heine**

_**---**_

Maria closed the bedroom door, leaned against it and let out a deep sigh. It had been a long day – one of the longest of her life and for so many reasons. She had gotten up at dawn for her brief visit to the troubled, lovesick Theresa in the Abbey, and now it looked like she would not be able to lie down to sleep for another hour, at least. Sorrowfully, she gazed at her bed, longing just to slip between the covers and sleep for _days_, if possible. The blue dress, as light as it was, was beginning to feel like a heavy armor.

However, as tempting as the possibility was, she did not dare to fall into slumber just yet. The children were much too restless, and although she had made sure the young ones were tucked in bed, something told her she would hear from them again. It had happened before. With seven children, being woken up in the middle of the night was not such an unusual occurrence. There was always the occasional bellyache, the monster in the closet, the ghost under the bed… She was quite sure that soon she would be called back to the youngest girl's room. Because of that, she would not even bother to change into her nightclothes until she was absolutely certain the house was quiet.

As she tried to lead each child into their respective bedrooms, she realized that, apparently, the usual bed time story would not be enough to calm them down, not after their successful presentation and the news that there would be a "grand and glorious" party in the house. Each one of them had a different reason to be so excited, all of them having to do with their father. After singing that song to them, the Captain had recovered his rightful place as a hero in their minds. The children were hardly able to talk about anything else but him. They had wanted to share more memories with her, about their mother and the music they all created together.

Needless to say, she wasn't even able to start the promised bedtime story. For that evening, she had chosen to tell them about the Greek myth of Pandora, who inadvertently opened a certain jar, thus releasing all the evils of mankind, leaving only hope inside. The idea struck her just as she saw them looking up at the Captain while he sang.

_Hope_ – that was why she remembered the story and wanted to tell it to the children that particular night. There was now hope, an almost certainty in fact, that they would become a happy family again, and if that really happened, it would mean that she would have accomplished God's work. If that was true, she would be able to return to Nonnberg in peace when the time came, without regrets. She would be able to return to the life that was meant for her, and follow her path wholeheartedly.

She had that hope tonight in the eyes of all those children. She had seen it in their father's eyes…

Butterflies began waltzing in her stomach when she remembered the Captain's hot blue gaze. Their fluttering wings created a wave that spread from her stomach to her lower belly and to other places that she would not even _consider_ focusing her attention at the moment. Not bothering to turn on the lights, she walked towards another source of blue – the moonlight streaming through a window. She leaned on the windowsill and began earnestly dedicating herself to one of her most secret pastimes lately, in her moments of solitude – musing about Captain von Trapp.

A few months before she was sent to the Trapp villa, she and Theresa had to go downtown do run some errands for the nuns. It had been a fun day, during peaceful times. She would not even dream she would have to leave the Abbey be sent to the home of someone as distinguished as Captain von Trapp. Theresa had not yet met the young man she would fall in love with. They did what they had to do in town very quickly, and were left with the gift of _time_ in their hands. It would have indeed been a precious gift, if not for the cold weather and the snowstorm which had just begun to announce itself. They were walking past an old movie theatre, and a poster announced an old silent movie that afternoon. Her friend had simply grabbed her hand and dragged her inside.

"_Theresa…"_ Maria had tried to protest. She really did not care for motion pictures very much, especially silent ones. To make matters worse, she was clever enough to realize that the particular one they were showing had the potential to get them into trouble.

"_At least our feet won't be cold,_" Theresa had said to convince her.

"_Well, they can't blame us for trying to stay healthy, can they?_" Maria shrugged, finally convinced.

Of course two lively girls wearing postulant habits walking into a movie theatre would not go unnoticed, and the news reached Sister Berthe´s ears. They tried to claim that they were merely seeking shelter for a snowstorm, but the formidable mistress of novices was no fool. They paid dearly for their transgression. Theresa, did not mind, she said it had been worth it. Maria had not agreed at all, because although her friend had literally melted when the black and white image of her favorite matinee idol flashed in the screen, Maria remained indifferent to it.

Now she remembered that day fondly, and some lines of the movie dialogue came back to mind.

_"Why have you brought me here?"_ asked Lady Diane, the helpless English girl.

_"Mon Dieu, are you not woman enough to know?" _the handsome but cruel desert warrior who had abducted her replied (1).

Maria had rolled her eyes when she heard the lines.

If it were her, and not Lady Diane, in the arms of that boorish rake, she would give him a piece of his mind, kick him where she knew would hurt the most, steal a horse and flee that ridiculously flimsy desert tent he had carried her to. That is, if he had indeed succeeded in kidnapping her in the first place. She would never be such a nitwit to allow such a thing to happen to her.

How silly could those girls be? At least she had her unusual upbringing to thank for, because she had not turned into one of them. At some point during the motion picture, she had simply stopped paying attention to the story, and started amusing herself thinking about an escape plan if she ever found herself in Lady Diane's unfortunate situation. Well, even if the desert stretched for miles and miles in every direction, crossing it would be a piece of cake for a girl used to climbing the steepest Austrian mountains.

Maria continued daydreaming, unaware that her mind was no longer in a shabby movie theatre, but in a luxurious villa in the outskirts of Salzburg…

No, no, no. She would not risk her precious neck crossing the Sahara on horseback. She prized her life too much and the Lord knew she could be more practical than that. Instead, she would use all her wit and sinew combined to keep her virtue intact, while she managed to send a message to Vienna, bringing forth the full wrath of the Imperial and Royal Austro-Hungarian Navy upon her captors.

Hah! That would show them!

"In the name of Austria and all that is sacred, _unhand my governess_," Captain Georg _Ritter_ von Trapp would shout, the Maria-Theresien cross gleaming in his uniform, branding his sword (she was sure he had one hidden somewhere), looking so devilishly handsome that undoubtedly Valentino´s Sheik would be reduced to nothing but an effeminate dandy.

Maria giggled.

There could be a minor flaw in her plan: the Navy in the middle of the Sahara?

"_Not so impossible_," she shrugged, remembering one of the stories the Captain had told her while they were building the marionette theatre. He told her that once he was sent on a mission across the Mediterranean, to a mysterious desert country the shores of Northern Africa. He had to cross the desert to meet the ruler of the country in. The potentate had thanked him, Austria and the Emperor for the success of the mission with a gift: a "_living, breathing, stinking_ _camel_", as the Captain described it. Refusing it would be a terrible insult not only to the Emperor, but to the temperamental chieftain as well. It could be fatal to him and his crew, so he had no choice but to take the four legged passenger aboard his U-boat, until they reached one of Greece's most Southern islands. True or not, the story was so hilarious that Maria still felt the urge to laugh when she thought of it (2).

But it was the thought that made Maria finally realize where she was – at the window in her bedroom, in the home of a Naval hero.

Captain von Trapp was no Valentino, she mused, gazing up at the moon. He was no Michelangelo's David either, she thought, thinking about the artwork that was, to her, the epitome of male beauty. The actor no longer lived outside the movie screen and David was nothing but a priceless piece of cold marble. The Captain, on the other hand, was real – flesh, bone and tortured soul. That was enough to make him more handsome than the other two combined. While singing to his children, he looked so _beautiful_ that it hurt to look at him. Although destined to the cloister, Maria had not been able to do anything else but gawk, in the same manner that Theresa had done with her Valentino that day.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she dared to venture into a little thought experiment. Instead of Rodolfo Valentino, the Captain, with his usual clipped tone, uttering that preposterous line to the captive in his arms.

_"Why have you brought me here__, Captain?"_

_"Are you not woman enough to know, Fräulein?"_

That made _all_ the difference. The butterflies came alive again. Woman enough to know or not, she even considered trying to find out _exactly_ what was the hidden meaning behind that phrase, although she had a good idea what it was. The butterflies were sending her a very clear, unmistakable, message.

Her eyes widened. Instantly she understood exactly _why_ Theresa had walked in the clouds for days after watching that movie. Nauseating as it was, she was close to becoming one of those silly girls she despised, sighing because of handsome men – in her case, a dashing sea captain.

"_Oh dear, I must have opened Pandora's Box,_"she thought, remembering the tale she had thought about telling the children earlier.

Never before she had to worry about her reaction to handsome men and what a presence of one of them was doing to her senses. She had never allowed _anything_ at all to distract her from her goals in life.

God did work in mysterious ways. It was like a full circle had been completed. Frau Schmidt's cryptic card reading about "_chaos, disorder and confusion_" in her life, for instance: absurdly as it was, it made perfect sense to her now. And the housekeeper _had_ seen a handsome man in her future, she just was not perceptive enough to realize that he was standing right behind them. She never said she would marry the aforementioned handsome man, although she had said she would never be a _good nun_. That too did not mean she would never be a _nun_. Well, at least she would try to be a good one and she was certain that the Lord would appreciate her efforts.

Yes, Pandora's jar, or box, as people usually called it, had most definitely been opened, and in more ways than one. Maria's thoughts turned to Agathe´s "_box of memories_" and its contents, especially that wedding photograph, with Captain von Trapp in his gala uniform looking at his beautiful bride. As it had happened when she saw the image, it was not his handsomeness that had drawn her to it, but the expression in his eyes.

Had she seen that expression in his eyes outside that picture? Earlier while they were preparing to begin their puppet show, he had a distant look in his face, and Brigitta had told her he was thinking about her mother, but it was not quite the same look he had on the picture. Disturbing as it was, just as he was singing the final words of _Edelweiss_, for the briefest instant, she thought she had seen just a glimmer... It was so fast and it went away so quickly that it could have been only her imagination playing tricks on her, although, judging by what she had heard from the children while tucking them in bed, he _had_ to be thinking about his lost love while he sang.

It was a look that could not be feigned. If Valentino had accomplished the feat in the movie she had seen with Theresa, she failed to see it. No, it was something that had to come from within, something uncontrollable and unavoidable. It would be there, in your eyes, whether you wanted it or not, whether you were aware of it or not. Only a few sensitive souls, like she believed herself to be, would recognize it for what it was.

Well, maybe not so sensitive. If Maria were just a little cognizant, if she were only a little aware of what was happening around her in the real world, she would know she was being watched for quite some time now, and she would not have startled. It was inevitable not to, however, when she looked down and saw the Captain looking straight at her.

The sheer force of his gaze made her forget everything else, even breathing.

She blinked.

When she opened her eyes, he was still there looking at her, unwavering. She blinked again and he was gone.

"Captain!" The word came out in a hushed whisper, for only then realizing she was still holding her breath.

It was there!

She saw it, only for an instant. The difference between now and before was that now she was certain. Her eyes had not deceived her. She was also certain that was only one woman he could be thinking of, only one he would ever look at in such a manner. Sadly, it wasn't Baroness Schraeder, whom he planned to marry, but the one lying on a shady grave next to St. Baptist's Church in Aigen-bei-Salzburg.

Oh, that look only would probably keep her awake for many nights to come, if the spell had not been immediately broken by a knock on her door.

The children – she _knew_ they would still need her tonight.

-----------------------------------------------

"_Captain!"_

He never waited. Instead, he marched briskly back inside without looking up.

"Damn you! You do not have the foggiest idea of what you are doing," he hissed, closing the doors firmly.

He did not know to who he addressed those words directed - himself or the impertinent governess. However, he'd had more than his share of self-analysis for one day, after one disturbing conversation with Max Detweiler, so he had no wish to find out at the moment. Suddenly, he remembered the day when Frau Schmidt had tried to read the cards for her, and he inadvertently intervened. The evocative image of "_The Lovers_" card appearing twice in a role flashed in his mind, hitting him with the force of a blow.

"No, no, no, no, no!" he exclaimed repeatedly. "_This is going too far,_" he thought, climbing the staircase, two or three steps at a time. He would not allow that slip of a girl disturb his peace of mind, not anymore.

He now understood the full reason behind the whimsical look in the Reverend Mother's face when she informed him she had just the perfect postulant to watch over his children. The nun could not possibly be foreseeing all _this_, could she? Hardly likely, but it was obvious that she knew that somehow the little Fräulein would irrevocably disrupt his life.

All of a sudden, an idea hit him. That was it, the solution to all his problems: _he was going to send her back_!

It was so simple, and yet so effective. It would not be forever, of course – not now. He was clever enough to acknowledge that now there were the children to be considered, and there would be a mutiny of unspeakable proportions if he dared to send their governess away at this point. No – she would have to go, but only for a while. A few days would suffice. It would be enough for him to clear his head and make things right with Elsa again.

In just a few more long strides, he was already at the top of the stairs, with the intent to run towards the master bedroom.

"No, no, no! This has to stop, and I will put an end to it, whether she like it or not. I will not allow it. I will not," he mumbled, thinking, at the same time, that it had been years since he had talked to himself like that because of a woman.

"But Captain, you do not even know what I was going to ask you yet!" She had simply materialized before him, out of nowhere, like an apparition clad in blue silk, when he turned the corner to enter the hallway that ended in his bedroom. The motion of the silk fabric in the skirt of her dress was a near painful reminder of his reveries earlier that same evening.

If there was one thing he would always admire his governess for was her persistence!

"Hallo!" she exclaimed disingenuously, solemnly ignoring the look of consternation in his face. At first glance, she seemed delightfully unaffected, while he had to take one or two deep breaths to slow his heartbeat, accelerated not only from running up the stairs but also by her sudden appearance before him.

When he fired her a steady, piercing gaze she became instantly flustered, which immediately led him to the conclusion that she was not completely unaffected by their near collision as she appeared to be at first.

"What the devil do you think you're doing? _You should not be here_," he spat.

"Yes, yes, I know I should not be _here_ by your bedroom door, Captain. I should be in _my_ part of the house, but I thought you were headed this way and it was my chance not to miss you," she said. Next, she delivered him a small but effective blow, before stating the purpose of her presence there. "I know my place in the household very well but I thought that since this has to do with the children, and, as you put it so rightly the other day, _you are their father_, and I could do what I had to do to draw your attention… Yes, Captain?"

"Could you _please_ just say what you have to say and… retire to your own quarters, as quickly as possible?" he ordered irritably. "I do hope it is important, because quite frankly I am tired and in a foul mood. I have no need for one of your tea cups tonight, least of all for your incessant ramblings" he added, referring to their many late night conversations.

"Very well. I am not inviting you for tea a nightcap this time… Is that why you were talking to himself just now? It was most curious, coming from you, Captain. What is it that has to stop whether she likes it or not, and who is she?"

"Fräulein!" he said between clenched teeth, glad that he was able to repress the instinct to shout at her.

She jumped a little, but immediately responded to his cautionary tone, her hands wringing.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it is my duty to report you a little _insubordination_." His eyebrows rose ironically at her.

"Yes, I can see that," he could not resist firing back, giving her a through, head to toe look. "I can also see the culprit standing right before me."

"No, not me!" she exclaimed, flushing hotly, but at the same time stomping one foot on the ground to make her point. "Three of your children refuse to observe their bedtime! It still has to be strictly observed, as I understand."

"Hah! Indeed it has."

He crossed his arms over his chest, and let his full weight fall against the wall, leaning on his left shoulder. He was tired, he was stressed, which was more than enough to bring all his dark side to life with full force. Paradoxically, at the same time he was uncomfortably _aroused_ in more ways than one. The last thing he would want would be a confrontation with the woman who was responsible for this confusing state at this hour!

"Tell me, who is it this time. Louisa? Friedrich? Liesl?" The governess shook her head in denial.

"Fräulein, I must ask of you to clarify that as objectively as possible, without digressing and with the minimum amount of words. I trust you _are_ capable of that, aren't you?"

"I shall try."

"Why do my children refuse to go to sleep?"

"Not _all_ of them, Captain. You see, Louisa began telling Marta and Gretl about how you _always_ used to tell a story before singing them a song before they went to bed," she paused, as if waiting for his reaction. He gave her none.

"Ha ha! I'm listening."

"She said there was one for the song you sang tonight – _Edelweiss_," her cheeks reddened when she said the word, leading him to the certainty that she too, perhaps, had been just as affected by their exchange of looks during the song. "Well, you never told the story before you sang."

"No, because you were thrusting that blasted guitar in my face before I could even think about what I was doing!" he exclaimed, defensively.

"Liesl, Friedrich, Louisa and Kurt seemed not to mind at all that there wasn't a story this evening, but Brigitta…" she rolled her eyes. "Your daughter seems to be under the impression that the whole universe will burst into flames and collapse if the little ones do not hear the tale before going to bed."

"That sounds like my daughter," he murmured.

"Well, I would say that sounds like _you_, Captain!" was her forthwith remark. He was able to tell the exact instant when she realized that she had spoken too much _again_. She covered her mouth with her hand.

He glared at her.

"I am almost afraid to ask you this, but… now _what_, Fräulein?"

"Kurt was too sleepy to care, but now Marta, Gretl – and Brigitta, of course - simply refuse to go to be before hearing the whole story. The young ones claim it is not fair since all the others know it, and they do not. Brigitta says it is simply _not_ how things were done."

He felt his annoyance grow to unbelievable proportions.

"Fräulein, if I am not mistaken, that is _precisely_ the kind of task a governess is hired to do: to keep your charges under control and not to bother your employers unnecessarily. If I am not mistaken, weeks ago I said I fully trusted your better judgment to deal with minor… _insubordinations_, as you called them. I was under the impression that the Reverend Mother gave you a full lecture on the subject of the duties of a governess before you left the Abbey."

"Yes, she did, and I know," she admitted.

"You could have stopped the _uprising_ yourself. The legend of the Edelweiss is notorious, and having grown up in Tyrol, you are probably as familiar with it as I am."

He was, of course, achingly familiar with it. It was true, he used to tell the story to his children during their happier times. It was the same story that had been told to him by his grandmother, about the flower that had become a symbol of true love, which could only be achieved by perseverance. This romantic aspect, however, was not brought up when he uttered his next words to the governess.

"Brigitta might not remember the details, but hating tragic endings as much as I know she does, she would not be so eager to hear it again if she did. It is a tale gruesome enough to give Marta nightmares and melodramatic enough to send Kurt running out of the room utterly disgusted. Frankly, I don't think I would blame him for that," he ended with a barely disguised note of amusement.

"But…"

"Ah ha! No "_but"_s this time. You deal with it, Fräulein, I am sure you will… think of something. Good night!" he ended, dismissively, straightening himself and turning towards his bedroom.

"I told them the very same thing, but they were adamant," her voice rose as she spoke behind him. He turned around to face her, his fists clenched. She took a small step back, but still did not give up in her intent. "I told them I knew the story very well, I told them you probably had retired already."

"_She really doesn't know when to stop, does she?"_

"They want to hear the story from _you_," she finished, emphatically.

------------------------------------------------------

"How on earth did I do this?" she asked herself, incredulous, half an hour later.

Somehow she had convinced Captain von Trapp to tell a bedtime story to his children, something unheard of in that house ever since their mother died. Clearly, he had not resisted without a fight. He was fuming all the way to the girl´s room. His expression only softened when he saw the girls waiting for him in their respective beds, each one accompanied by her favorite doll. Brigitta – who shared another room with Louisa – had accommodate herself in a large armchair next to Marta´s bed.

"Finally!" she exclaimed excitedly, as soon as Maria entered the room, followed by the Captain. "I knew you would convince him in the end," she added.

Maria cast her a warning glance. The Captain caught it as he turned slightly to face her. She was awarded one of his sarcastic grins, and shrugged apologetically in response.

"I was told the two of you wanted to hear the tale about the Edelweiss and the Ice Queen," he began, turning to the girls again. He sat on Gretl´s bed, and the little one, having been granted that small priviledge, giggled. Smiling, the Captain patted her nose, then gently ruffled Marta´s hair.

Maria watched the scene developing before her eyes, fascinated. She did not mind that the girls now had his full and complete attention, so much that he seemed hardly aware that she was still in the room. Uncertain of what she should do – stay or leave – she remained at the door, as the Captain told his daughters the sad tale of the Ice Queen whose heart was melted by a shepherd…

She intended to leave as soon as he started it, but she could not help it. She could not stop listening to him. He held her attention, as much as he her the attention of his daughters. The Captain´s talent for storytelling was something she had discovered recently, during their many late night conversations and she would never cease to be impressed by it. When Maria tried to tell a story, usually her anxiety got in the way, and at times she ended up telling the end of the story before the beginning. The Captain, on the other hand, not only managed to tell the tale in the right order, but with his words, he was able to make his listeners pay attention to anything else but the tale he was weaving. It was so true that they did not close their eyes in sleep until he uttered the last word.

It wasn´t until he bent down to kiss his already sleeping daughters in the forehead that she tiptoed out of the room. He would not wish to talk with her again, she had intruded upon his privacy enough for one day.

He caught up with her in the hallway.

"Fräulein," she heard behind her. His voice was low and calm. The look in his eyes was intense, although not nearly as much as when she had caught him looking at her at the window.

"Yes, Captain?" A sudden thought made her start speaking abruptly again. "Oh, I´m sorry. It´s Brigitta. I must take her to her room. She simply cannot sleep the while night in that chair."

"She is much too heavy for you, Fräulein. Leave that to me, I'll carry Brigitta later. You..."

Something odd happened. He looked completely lost. His eyes searched everywhere, but did not fix in anything, least of all her person. Maria had never seen him like that and she did not like it. It was painful to watch because she had the distinct impression that he was actually _avoiding_ her eyes. She wondered what she could say or do to bring him out of his state of confusion, but a wise voice inside her warned that it would probably disturb him even further. She took a step towards him, and he finally spoke. Whatever it was that he wanted to say, it was not what finally came out of his mouth.

"You… sleep well," he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Ooh. You too, Captain."

"Good night."

Having said that, he turned briskly and left her standing in the middle of the hallway, bewildered.

--------------------------------------------------

**Epilogue**

Later that night, the Captain tossed and turned in his bed.

_He could not do it. _

He blamed himself one hundred times over, but when the moment came to send her back to the Abbey - not forever, but only for a day or two -, the words simply refuse to leave his lips.

Why?

He had no idea.

He could have fired her already, in so many occasions. Once, he had done it, only to take it back later, with a heartfelt apology from a man not using to explain his actions, let alone apologize to a subordinate.

In vain, he searched for an explanation, but the ones he found were so absurd he refused to take it seriously. However, he allowed himself to face one single truth, hoping that it would bring him some peace, at last.

"_I want her_."

It was an admission he could not escape, could no longer deny. What he now needed to convince himself, desperately, was that it was all there was to it.

_He wanted her. _

He was hopelessly lured by everything she represented – youth, freshness, a new beginning. The only trouble was that she was also a future nun.

"_I am hopelessly __lured by the forbidden…"_

No wonder Max was having so much fun at his expense!

He was just too tired to fight now. Maybe if he gave in to it, if he allowed his thoughts free reign, sleep would come to him at last. Closing his eyes, he recaptured the pleasant reverie of earlier that evening, when he was strolling by the lake, only to be interrupted by _her_ and that slip of a blue dress…

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_The first wave… The pine cone…_

_When the first wave hit them fully, she let out a little happy squeal. His secret plan to get rid of her shyness worked beautifully, because by the time the second wave hit her, she was already fumbling with the wet skirts clinging to her legs, and moaning one of her adorable self __derogatory remarks. _

_The second wave… The fall on the lake…_

_He hardly heard her – he was too occupied noticing how enchanting she looked, how seductive, with the wet blue silk clinging to her body, leaving very little to the imagination. Oh, it was nothing like that other time, when she had fallen on the lake, because this time it was no coarse wool she had been wearing._

_The third wave… Edelweiss…_

_The third wave surprised them both – Maria, because she was busy trying to keep her balance in her wet blue dress, and him as well, because he was too distracted by the picture she made that he did not see it coming. The wild surf knocked both of them down._

That _was something he had not planned. It wasn't to be like that._

_Familiar with the changing moods of the sea, he knew just what to do to rescue them from its powerful grasp. In a moment, he had then back to safety. When that happened, he found himself on top of her and… it was inevitable. All he had to do was to look in her eyes, and he was lost. They were both lost._

_The sea washed it all away afterwards. As they were walking away, they stopped for one last, passionate kiss. He looked back to the place where everything had happened and even the sand, where they had lain was again white, pure, unblemished – just like the woman in his arms had been before that night._

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_A/N: (1)__ "The Sheik", with Rodolfo Valentino, based on the novel by E.M. Hull. (2) I borrowed the idea from John Biggin´s "A Sailor of Austria". _


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